Before One Tree Hill: Jimmy On My Mind
by allieisrandom
Summary: When eighteen-year-old Lydia Brigard discovers that her family has been hiding something from her, she's willing to do whatever it takes to find the answers she's looking for. Even if it means asking for help from a dime-store cowboy.
1. Prologue: Trouble in Paradise

_Nashville, Tennessee 1952_

Marshall Christopher Brigard had never been a spontaneous man. He believed in planning things down to the last letter, as far in advance as possible. He had taken a full eighteen months of courtship to arrive at the conclusion that he wanted to marry his girlfriend, Josephine Taylor, and the day that Josephine came home from the doctor's office and announced that the rabbit had died, Marshall kissed her hand and immediately ran down to the library to begin researching. By the time Josephine's doctor confirmed that there were two heartbeats, Marshall had an extra-large binder that he kept in his desk drawer on top of the phone book and carried to the library with him twice a week. It was full of notes he'd taken to plan for his unborn children's entire lives, from the best quality diaper services to how he should handle it if his son or daughter ever came home with a tattoo.

Finally, one cold December morning, Marshall found himself sitting in the waiting room of the hospital maternity ward with a box of cigars in his pocket. He was quite comfortably shrouded in the delusion that he was fully prepared to embark on a lifetime of parenting.

That is, until a fretful nurse called his name and took him aside to shatter that delusion forever.

"The first twin to be born was a girl," the nurse began, choosing to start off with the good news. "Her birth went smoothly, and she came out with a strong, healthy cry. But the other baby…the boy…"

Marshall's eyes widened. He had so been hoping for at least one boy.

"He was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck," the nurse finally said. "By the time doctors were able to untangle him, he was already unconscious."

"Will he survive?" Marshall asked, a fearful desperation in his gaze.

"He's safe now," the nurse answered. "But understand that it's no longer a question of mere survival, Mr. Brigard. The first few minutes of a baby's life are extremely critical. What I'm trying to say, is..." She twisted her hands together and fumbled for the right words, then finished her thought in a hushed voice. _"You might not like what you end up with."_

Marshall looked down and away.

"What about Josie?" He finally asked.

"She's not fully awake yet. But she's fine."

A while later, a doctor finally came out to escort Marshall to the room where his wife was staying. On the way, they passed by the nursery, and the doctor pointed to the bassinet in the corner where two newborn babies slept, face-up and swaddled. One tiny pink hat, one tiny blue hat. On the outside, they looked just like any other newborn babies.

 _You might not like what you end up with_ , the nurse had said.

So far, what he had ended up with looked just fine.

But there was no way to know.

When Marshall arrived in Josephine's bedroom, she was weary but fully conscious, and smiling blissfully.

"Have you seen them?" she asked. "We have a son and a daughter."

"I have." Marshall sighed and squeezed his wife's hand. They were quiet for a few minutes.

"Nicholas," Marshall finally whispered to himself, the word almost catching in his throat on the third syllable. "I was going to name my first son Nicholas. After my father."

"And you can," Josephine said.

Marshall shook his head.

"He's not the son I planned for."

"What are you talking about?"

Marshall looked away and didn't say anything.

 _You might not like what you end up with._

"Perhaps if you can't think of another name you'd like to give him, we could call him after my father instead," Josephine finally suggested.

Marshall grunted. "Francis? The boy's got enough problems as is, Josie."

Josephine looked even more confused now. But all she said was, "Not Francis. Just Frank."

Marshall thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"Decent enough." He leaned over and stroked his wife's hair, smoothing it away from her sunken eyes. "Have you thought of a name you might like for the girl?"

"I thought we might name her after your aunt," said Josephine quietly. "Lydia."

For the first time since arriving at the hospital for his children's birth, Marshall smiled, and the fearful desperation evaporated from his face.

"I like that."

And life went on.


	2. Chapter 1: Beautiful Unhappy Home

_Eighteen years later_

The bubblegum pink walls of Lydia Brigard's bedroom reflected her mood as she giggled through the pops and scratches on her record player. She sat atop her fluffy pink chair and watched herself in her vanity as she meticulously straightened her hair.

"Slipping and a-sliding, all along the waterfall," Lydia sang to herself as she reached the end of one section of her hair and moved on to the next. "With you, my brown-eyed girl. You, my brown-eyed girl."

"So, hey…"

Lydia set the straightener down on her vanity and glanced over her shoulder to face her best friend, Donna, who was sitting on the edge of Lydia's heart-speckled blanket.

"I was just wondering. Do you consider Joey Sinclair one of your ex-boyfriends?"

Lydia shrugged. "Eh, not really. We only ever went out three times. He's not even that hot. Don't you agree?"

Donna thought about it for a moment. "I guess so. But God, have you seen his dimples?"

Lydia sighed, tossed her newly-straightened brown locks over her shoulder, and sat down on the bed next to Donna.

"Listen, sweetie. I know that you have a thing for Joey." Donna opened her mouth to protest, but Lydia continued. "And if you want to try and make a move on him, you can."

Donna's eyes widened. "Really?"

Lydia smiled sweetly and nodded. "Absolutely. I'm done with him. I mean, it was pretty fun letting him sneak his hand under my shirt and squeeze my boobs during the Simon and Garfunkel concert and all. And…wow…don't even get me started on that time that we made out in the locker room." Lydia closed her eyes for a split second and smiled wistfully. "But anyway. That's all over. I'm dating Harvey now." Lydia gestured to the class ring that dangled, as always, from a gold chain around her neck. "Joey's totally yours if you want him. There's just one tiny thing that I feel like I should warn you about. As your friend."

"What's that?" asked Donna.

Lydia smiled, leaned in close to the other girl, and whispered in her ear.

 _"_ _He has a third nipple."_

Donna pulled back, eyes wide.

"But like I said," said Lydia. "I promise you that it's okay if you want him. He's all yours."

"Um, thanks," said Donna quickly. Then she got up to answer the knock on Lydia's bedroom door while Lydia sat back down at her vanity and began hurriedly applying eye makeup.

"Hey!" said Robin, Lydia and Donna's friend, from the other side of the door. "Where's the birthday girl?"

"She's almost ready!" Donna replied as she held open the door for Robin and their new friend Janice. The two girls bounced in clutching piles of wrapped gifts to their chests. They side-hugged Lydia before joining Donna on the bed.

"So, slight change of plans, ladies," said Robin. "You know that new country club that just opened up on 24th Street? The one where they bring in live musicians to play at dinner?"

Lydia glanced up, her interest peaked. "Yeah?"

"Well, guess who just showed the maître d a _very_ good time in exchange for a birthday surprise?"

Lydia gasped as she dabbed powder onto her browline. "No!"

"Yes!" squealed Robin. "It's going to be amazing!"

Janice grinned. "Far _out!"_

"But wait a second," said Donna. "Don't you have to be eighteen to be a member there?" Donna and Janice were both going to be turning eighteen in the spring.

"You do, sweetie," said Robin. "But, lucky for us…" She reached into her purse and pulled out two cards, "You both turned eighteen last year!"

Everyone cheered as Robin handed the two fake ID's to Donna and Janice.

Donna squeaked. "Oh, no."

Robin turned to Donna. "What?"

"You got my eye color wrong."

"No one is gonna care about your eye color, Donna," Lydia insisted as she picked up a handheld mirror and closely examined her mascara.

"But what if our waiter notices? What if he asks about it?"

"Just tell him you got a disease that caused it to change," Janice suggested.

"What kind of a disease would cause blue eyes to turn green?"

"Just make something up!" said Lydia as she reached for an eyeliner pencil.

"Oh," said Donna. "Okay."

"So, is it just us?" asked Janice. "Or do you have any siblings who might want to tag along?"

"Nah," said Lydia. "I'm an only child."

"Good," said Janice. "Because I baked you a special birthday surprise, but there's only enough for the four of us."

"Aww, really?"

"Yep!"

Everyone cheered again when Janice extracted four brownies from a small bag inside her purse and handed one to each girl. Each one of the girls nibbled on a brownie as they talked and Lydia put the finishing touches on her face.

"Guys," said Robin. "Did you hear what happened with Brent Armstrong and Katie Sullivan?"

Three jaws dropped with pre-emptive shock.

"No, what?" asked Donna.

"He gave her his class ring."

Donna and Lydia gasped. _"No!"_

"Oh, my gosh," Janice swallowed a bite of her brownie. "Speaking of rings, did I tell you that my cousin just got engaged?"

"No," said Robin. "Why?"

" _Well_ , his fiancée's father works at a shoe store."

Lydia made a face. "Gross. I'm so sorry."

"My mom is furious about it. It's all she ever talks about anymore. Thank God she's never in town anyway.

"Janice, these brownies are amazing!" Donna declared. "Seriously, I've never tasted anything like them!"

Janice grinned. "Thanks. My sister actually helped me make them," she admitted. "There's something about the way that she does it that makes them special."

When the brownies were gone and Lydia was finished getting ready, all four of the girls went downstairs and piled into Janice's car. Lydia rode shotgun, and the other girls sat in the rear.

"Psst! Hey, Lydia!" Lydia felt Robin grab her arm. "Are you sure we're not gonna get in trouble?" she whispered just loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Donna did seem pretty serious about her eye color being wrong. Did you know that Donna's eye color was wrong on her fake ID?" Robin glanced over at Donna. "Oh God. Her eyes look _red_ now! Everyone's gonna know it's fake!"

"No, they're not." Lydia insisted as she adjusted her position on the slick leather seat.

"Are you sure you're a good driver, Janice?" Robin yelled over Donna's warbled rendition of _Fire & Rain_. "I'm really worried about how that police officer is going to react if you do something wrong."

Lydia looked out the window in the direction that Janice was gesturing. "That's not a police officer. That's a guy whistling for a cab."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Positive."

"Whew," said Robin as she slouched against Donna. "Move over, then. I'll drive."

Lydia burst out giggling. "You're in the back!"

"Oh."

"I'm so hungry!" Donna declared. _"I've seen french fries, and I've seen ketchup, I've seen sunny side up eggs that I thought would never die…"_

Robin gasped and looked to her side "Are you dying?"

Donna stopped singing and burst out laughing. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

Lydia gasped. "It's okay!" said Janice. "She's kidding!"

"Then stop kidding!" cried Robin. "Stop kidding, Donna!"

"Shh!" Lydia, twisting around to put one hand on Robin's shoulder. "You're okay, girl. We're almost there."

"Ugh, Janice!" said Donna. "Where are more of your brownies when we need them?"

Janice just looked down at the steering wheel and laughed for a full two minutes before responding with "I don't know!" When she glanced back up, she suddenly noticed that she was across the street from their destination and squealed.

"We're here!"

At first glance, the large building adorned with oodles of old-fashioned charm appeared to be exactly what Lydia and her friends had assumed that it would be. But as they began to near the door, they started realizing that the patrons weren't exactly what they were expecting. Most of them were dressed relatively casually, in jeans or short skirts. At the door, a large man was stationed. He let in only a handful of people at a time, and checked every single person's ID on the way in. As soon as he saw Robin, he waved her over to him and rattled off something about her being on the VIP list and let the whole crew in with a wink, whispering happy birthday to Lydia and giving her a pat on the rump as she passed him.

Thereafter, Lydia and her friends were hit with the thick aroma of cigar smoke. Then they noticed that a sizable set of antlers hung over the bar as well as several neon signs depicting cowboy hats and farm animals. Some of the barstools were ordinary, albeit rickety and wooden, but some were nothing more than overturned barrels. In several different places, horseshoes hung high up on the walls as Johnny Cash declared from numerous speakers that he had the Folsom prison blues.

"Girls," said Lydia. Her three wingwomen looked towards her. "Whose idea was it to come to this club again?"

After taking a moment to remember it, Janice meekly raised her hand.

"Well, guess what? This isn't a country club. It's a _country music_ club."

Janice gasped, eyes widening as the meaning sunk in. _"Ohhhhhh."_

"Oh, look!" said Donna. "Nachos!" Then, before anyone could stop her, she ran up to the counter and began pulling out her wallet.

Lydia huffed as she tucked a long strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Nachos does sound like a pretty good idea," Robin mumbled. "I'm getting hungry, too."

"Me, too," Lydia admitted. "Come on." Janice and Robin flanked Lydia all the way to the bar. Donna had already ordered nachos for herself plus a gigantic pile of hot wings. The other three girls ordered nachos and bottles of beer for themselves and ended up bringing all of those things to the first thing that looked like a bench that they noticed and eating right off their laps. Lydia took care to make sure that no one's hair or outfits were sacrificed in the process of satisfying their hunger while a nearby older man blew smoke in their general direction and Dolly Parton declared that she wasn't worth the tears.

 _I hate country music_ , Lydia thought.

A few minutes later, Lydia breathed a sigh of relief when the music faded out, the speakers turned off, and the lights brightened just a touch.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Lydia turned around, her eyes first falling on a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. Then on a pair of faded jeans. A plaid long-sleeved shirt. A face framed with reddish brown curls. The face spoke.

"Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Oh, goodness," Lydia giggled. "I'm flattered. But I have a boyfriend right now. And my girls…well, they're lovely, but…ugh…how do I say this. We have standards. Sorry, country boy."

The face smirked. "I was actually going to ask if you and your girls wouldn't mind moving out of the way."

Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

The boy's grin widened. "Much obliged, Princess."

Lydia stood up and planted her hands on her slender hips.

"Listen here," she said. "I know that this here table is probably your special little place that you like to eat at every time you come here with your special little cowboy friends. But tonight it is _my_ eighteenth birthday, and due to circumstances completely beyond my control, I am stuck celebrating here at this crummy little yokel bar, and goddammit, I am going to make the most of it."

"Jimmy!"

Lydia watched as the young man turned away from her to greet an older man in a white suit. The two men were obviously well acquainted. Perhaps they could have even been father and son, had they been more alike in appearance. As was, Lydia thought, maybe this older man thought that he was somehow going to use his money and influence to convince Lydia and her friends to give up their bench. Well, they had another think coming. There was no way she was moving.

"We're not leaving this bench!" Lydia all but yelled when the older man began moving in her direction.

"I understand that, miss," he said with a smile that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "But you see, you're not sitting on a bench. You're sitting on the stage."

Lydia blinked.

"What?

She looked down. She saw the red border thickly painted on the edge of the elevated platform where she, her friends, and all of their food were. Then she looked around and saw that almost everyone in sight was staring at her.

Slowly, Lydia turned around to face her friends, mouth agape. Donna and Janice had already risen to their feet with plates in hands, looking just as horrified as Lydia did. Janice began tugging on Robin's sweater.

"Come on, Robin," said Janice. "We need to go."

Robin glanced up at her friends and saw the tall man standing above them. Then she gasped and pointed at Donna.

"Just so you know, she definitely does _not_ have red and green eyes."

Janice grabbed Robin's arm. "Come on!"

Not willing to give up their remaining hot wings just to escape an embarrassing situation, the girls re-situated themselves at a table off to the side, halfway between the stage and the hallway that led to the restrooms. They paid no mind as the elegant man who'd asked them to get off the stage got up and rattled some mumbo jumbo through a microphone about music and beer and horses.

"And please give it up for our very own Jimmy James!"

Lydia coughed into her hand as the curly-haired boy she'd just chastised took the stage with battered wooden guitar in his hands and sat down on a stray barstool that had been placed up there for his use. Patrons around them cheered, whooped, and hollered.

 _Jimmy James._ What kind of a name was that?

 _"_ _All the time,"_ Jimmy sang. _"Yes, darling, all the time."_

Lydia's gaze froze on Jimmy's hand as he strummed his guitar faster.

 _"_ _Tenderly…"_ Jimmy looked up and began scanning the audience. _"Constantly…"_

Lydia grabbed another hot wing and began nibbling on it vigorously. There was no denying that the boy had a half-decent voice. And that the music coming out of his guitar sounded good (good for country music, anyway). But she still hated him.

 _"I'll love you,"_ Jimmy sang as he got up from his barstool. _"Every day. I'll prove it every way."_

Lydia rolled her eyes as a few notes came from the guitar that he was holding in his hands. He happened to catch her eyes on the last few microseconds of the roll. He chuckled for a brief moment. Then, to Lydia's absolute horror, he locked his gaze on her.

 _"_ _In happiness,"_ Jimmy inched towards the edge of the stage. _"Or loneliness, I'll love you."_

Lydia's mouth fell agape as a few more notes came out of the guitar. Donna gasped and grabbed Lydia's hand, which Lydia barely noticed as Jimmy continued singing and gazing intently at her.

 _"_ _Other arms may tempt me, but don't let that bother you,"_ he sang.

"Lydia!" Donna suddenly shouted. "That boy is looking at-"

Lydia clamped her hand over Donna's mouth and then shoved her friend back into her own seat. A few surrounding patrons laughed. Some hollered. Jimmy moved even closer to Lydia.

 _"_ _For even if they tempt me, I'll never be untrue."_

In spite of Lydia's harsh reaction to her last words, Donna squealed out loud. Janice looked over at Lydia and babbled something at her about how the boy might be lying to her and that he was going to be untrue after all. Robin just kept eating.

 _"_ _All the time, yes darling, all the time."_

Jimmy took a step forward.

 _"_ _Through the years, through smiles or tears,"_ Jimmy took another step, _"I'll love you."_

Lydia tried to hide her crimson face behind her hand and a hot wing. Everyone in the room was looking at her. Jimmy was practically teetering off the edge of the stage by the time the last painful note left his guitar. The crowd around the table with the four girls burst into cheers. Janice and Donna began arguing over the last remaining wing. Robin began giggling uncontrollably.

"I hate country music," Lydia mumbled out loud.

Fortunately for her, another singer followed up Jimmy by taking the stage and wowing the crowd over with some dumb song about a truck. By the time that song was halfway over, Lydia and the girls were ready to leave.

"How did you like the song, Princess?"

Lydia clenched her fist and sucked in her breath and turned around. Who should she find standing right in front of her but Jimmy James.

"You know… _damn well_ …that I did not like that song."

"Why not?" Jimmy quipped. "I was just trying to be nice to you, Princess. When someone does something nice for you, you're supposed to say thank you. Didn't they teach you that in finishing school?"

Lydia pasted on a huge fake smile. "Thank you, Jackass!"

"My name's not Jackass. It's Jimmy."

"Yeah, well my name's not _Princess_. It's Lydia."

"I don't know. I think Princess suits you better."

Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head. She didn't have time for this nonsense.

"Come on, ladies. We should get home."

By the time Lydia got home, it was already half an hour past her curfew. Not that her parents would care. Lydia knew that Mom was volunteering at a charity banquet, and as for Daddy, he had always had a very high tolerance for her shenanigans. Especially on special days like her birthday. He was often out of town on business trips for days or weeks at a time. But when he was there, Lydia was the center of his world.

The house was quiet when Lydia walked inside. The dishes from dinner had been washed and were drying in the rack by the sink. The windows had been shut. All the lights had been turned off other than the lamp in Daddy's study. Lydia could see the dim light from the lamp under the door, so she knocked on it softly. A few moments later, he told her to come in.

Daddy's study was one of the biggest rooms in the house and one of Lydia's favorites. In one corner was the office area with the desk and the typewriter and the phone, and the rest of it was set up like a small second living room. In the evenings, Daddy could be found reading in here, in his huge, leather chair, under the green blanket that his Aunt Lydia crocheted for him before he went off to college. Daddy had always forbidden most everyone from entering his study, going so far as to lock the door whenever he was not at home. Even Mom was never allowed to come in here. Not even to bring him a cup of coffee or his dinner on the nights that he chose to eat in here instead of at the table. But Lydia had always been granted entry.

"How was your birthday, Lyddiebug?" asked Daddy with a wide smile.

"It was good," she lied. "The girls and I went out for nachos."

Lydia sat down on the floor next to the coffee table and gave her father a sideways glance as she sheepishly opened up his box of chocolates. She randomly chose a dark chocolate square with a vanilla drizzle. Daddy grabbed onto one end of the chocolate and they each pulled until the chocolate broke apart in two. This was a tradition they had always shared. Lydia had outgrown most of their other traditions, such as sitting on Daddy's lap in his big chair while he read to her from _The Wizard Of Oz_ and _Peter Pan_ and _Alice in Wonderland_. That was the only thing that had ever made her secretly miss being a child on occasion. She certainly didn't miss the lack of friends with cars when she needed to get out of her house, away from two parents who were just about ready to renounce each other's existence.

Daddy cleared his throat. "There's actually something I need to tell you. It's about Christmas."

Lydia's face fell. "What's wrong? Is one of my presents not going to get here on time?" Lydia hoped that this was the year that he was finally going to give her a car of her own.

"No, nothing like that," Daddy assured Lydia. "You're getting everything you deserve, just like you do every year."

"But?"

"I won't be here."

" _What?_ Why not?"

"The company is sending me to Chicago. I leave on Friday at five a.m., and I won't be back for a couple of weeks."

Lydia leaned against the side of the leather chair and looked across the room at the chipped corner of her father's mahogany desk. She closed her eyes to try and hold back tears. Daddy sighed and began stroking Lydia's hair.

"I'm sorry, Lyddiebug. I really am. But you know how important my job is, don't you?"

"Of course, Daddy. It's just that it's Christmas, you know? I really wish that you didn't have to miss it."

"I know," Daddy squeezed Lydia's shoulder. "You and I can do something special when I get back, okay? I promise."

Lydia forced a smile. "Of course." She got to her feet and gave her father a hug goodnight and then left. It was only after she'd spent five minutes crying in the shower that she remembered that her parents usually had a huge fight sometime between her birthday and Christmas. So maybe it was just as well that they were going to be apart.

Before Lydia went to bed that night, she spent a few minutes going over her notes for the following morning's chemistry exam. Then she set the volume on her record player on the lowest setting and allowed Robert Kinght to remind her that she was his everlasting love while she brushed her hair before going to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Don't Make 'Em Like My Daddy

"While all of you finish your bellwork, I am going to pass back your civil war exams," said Lydia's history teacher as he retrieved a file folder full of papers from his desk drawer. "There were only three people in this class who got A's, four B's, seven C's, and almost all of the rest of you got D's. For those of you who did not do well on the fill-in-the-blank questions, I would like to remind you that first of all, George Washington was long dead by 1862, so there was absolutely no way that he could have witnessed the Gettysburg Address, let alone delivered it and, second of all, that the cotton gin is not a beverage."

As the teacher handed the paper to the student sitting in front of Lydia, she sat up straight and held out her hand to receive her own paper.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," said Lydia sweetly as she took the paper, ever so indiscreetly holding it up so that anyone who was looking could see that she had gotten an A. Just as the teacher was about to leave Lydia's section, she quietly asked him if she could have the bathroom pass. He said yes. Lydia discreetly exited the classroom and made her way down to the janitor's closet, where she knew that Harvey Winchester would be waiting to squeeze her and kiss her and remind her that she was the sexiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You're so beautiful," Harvey whispered as he kissed Lydia's neck. "So smart." He kissed her chin. "So…Lydia." He breathed out the last word just before his lips met hers. Then, uncharacteristically, he reached behind Lydia's back and moved to pull down the zipper behind her dress.

"What are you doing?" Lydia whispered.

"Taking our clothes off."

"Are…" Lydia pulled back slightly. "Are you sure that you want to do this now?" Harvey glanced down at her in confusion. "Christmas break starts tomorrow, you know. We'll be free to do it, anywhere…" She kissed him. "Anytime…"

Harvey smiled. "What's the problem, babe? Are you afraid of getting caught?"

"Of course not," said Lydia. "I'm never afraid."

Then, to make her point, she began undoing the buttons on his shirt. The undoing of snaps and clasps and buckles intermingled with kisses and whispers and touches. Moments after both lovers had shed their upper garments, the door opened.

It was the principal.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Lydia and Harvey found themselves each sitting in a chair opposite the principal's desk. The principal himself was staring them down. Harvey's father and Lydia's parents stood behind them, looking on.

"Miss Brigard," the principal began. "Do you have any idea what consequences your actions today could have on this young man's life?"

" _His_ life?" thundered Daddy. "What about my _daughter's_ life?"

Harvey's father, John Winchester, spoke up.

"With all due respect, sir, my son is the one who is supposed to be going to an Ivy League university next fall. He has already been accepted into Yale. And that's his safety school."

"My daughter is looking forward to just as good of a life as your son, Mr. Winchester!" Daddy argued. "A husband, children, maybe even a college degree. How is she supposed to have any of those things if your son gets her pregnant?"

"The only way that your daughter is getting pregnant by my son or any other boy is if she opens her legs."

"Enough!" Lydia finally snapped. Daddy turned his full attention to her. John sighed and looked away. "We were only kissing. That's all we've ever done."

"You'd better be telling the truth, Miss Brigard," said the principal. "Because as Mr. Winchester has already pointed out, his son is supposed to be going to an Ivy League school next year. He can't do that if he's saddled with a family."

Josephine Brigard exhaled sharply.

"You hear that, son?" said John. "This girl is bad for you. You're done with her." Harvey looked away. "Tell her. Right now."

After a moment, Harvey looked over at Lydia. "Lydia, I can't see you anymore. We're over."

The principal smiled and nodded. "Well done, Mr. Winchester. You are free to go back to class. Have a nice day, John. Sorry for taking up your time."

"It's no problem," said John. "Thank you for looking out for my son."

Harvey got up from his chair and moved to leave. After having taken a few steps towards the door, he stopped.

"Wait," said Harvey. "Lydia?" Lydia turned around and faced him. "I want my class ring back."

Lydia felt her heart sink as she grudgingly removed the chain from her neck that the ring hung on. She resisted the urge to throw it in his face, instead holding it out on the palm of her hand for him to take on his way out the door.

"As for you, Miss Brigard," said the principal. "You're suspended for a week."

"What?" said Marshall. "Christmas break starts tomorrow."

"It does," said the principal. "She will miss the first four days of school in January as well. Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Brigard."

Lydia and her parents rode home in silence. She sat in the backseat of her father's car watching passersby move through the bustling streets of Nashville. The sky above them wasn't as bright as it had been that morning. It was a chalky blue-grey mix of life and doom.

Once the front door to the house was shut and locked by Mom, Lydia stopped in her tracks and braced herself for the harshest of reprimands.

"Lydia, go to your room," said Mom.

"Josephine…" Daddy tried to protest.

 _"_ _Right. Now."_

Lydia walked away, a feeling of dread sinking deep into her stomach. The look on Mom's face wasn't one that Lydia saw very often, and it wasn't the stern no-nonsense gaze that Mom normally used to scold Lydia, or when she was yelling at the next door neighbor because his dog was barking too loudly. No. That was the face that Mom reserved especially for anger towards Daddy. She didn't allow her anger for him to surface very often. But as the saying went, when it rained, it poured.

Lydia put on her newest Led Zepplin record and laid down on her bed. As she began to cry, she couldn't help but listen to the muffled sound of her parents shouting at each other in the kitchen below.

"How could you let that happen, Marshall? How could you just stand there and do nothing while that male chauvinist _pig_ …"

"What did you expect me to do, Josephine?" Daddy snapped. "John Winchester was standing right there. He practically single-handedly funds every sports team at the school. There was no way Harvey was going to get as harsh of a punishment as Lydia."

"You could have at least tried pointing out that it takes two people to commit this particular wrong."

 _"_ _You're_ willing to admit that it takes two people to make or break a relationship? That's a first."

Lydia exhaled and let out a sob that she hadn't known she'd been holding in.

"Do _not_ make this about us, Marshall."

"Why not? You're the one who interrupted my dinner with my colleagues last month to remind me that you think I ruined your life just because you thought we were being too noisy."

"And there it is again. The part where I "think" that you ruined my life."

"For Christ sakes, Josephine. I did what had to be done."

Lydia suddenly froze. What was he talking about?

"I did what _any_ reasonable man would do. It was what was best for him."

"You mean what was best for _you_ ," Mom snapped. Lydia shivered when she heard how her mother's voice was breaking.

"It was best for all of us," Daddy reasoned, his voice calm. "I can understand why you would have been willing to make that sacrifice for yourself, Josephine. I really do. But to force Lydia to grow up with…"

"Enough!" Josephine shouted through audible crying. "Just leave me alone!"

Lydia heard her mother's heels bring her to the front door and down the porch steps. Then she heard the car's engine revving and then driving away. All the while, her record player had begun to emit nothing but static. She got up to take the music off, her mind still reeling from the last words that she'd heard spoken by her parents.

 _I did what any reasonable man would do. It was what was best for him._

Lydia had heard the words "you've ruined my life" pass her mother's lips before during more arguments than she could count. But she had always taken that to be a reference to her parents failed, loveless marriage-to the life that Mom no longer found fulfilling, if she ever had. It had never occurred to Lydia that Daddy might have done something specific to make Mom hate him.

 _It was what was best for him._

Who was _him_?

Lydia was a bit startled when she heard her father's heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She sat up, went to her vanity, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a handkerchief. She got herself looking presentable just in time for Daddy to knock on her door.

"Come in!" said Lydia.

Daddy opened the door. To her relief, he immediately enveloped her in a hug and held her for a minute.

"I just had a talk with your mother," said Daddy. "She's decided that she wants to ground you for a week. No music, no TV, no leaving the house except to run errands, and definitely no phone calls."

Lydia sighed. That was what she had expected. Normally when Mom grounded her Daddy still let her do whatever she wanted, but of course with him going out of town, all bets were off.

"But I don't really think that's fair, is it?" asked Daddy. "Especially since you're already being punished at school."

"I do really hate the fact that I'll be missing my last homework assignments," said Lydia.

"That's why I've prepared a little consolation prize for you." Daddy extracted a little gold key from his pocket. Lydia gasped when she saw it.

"You're giving me the key to your study?"

"Only for you, Lyddiebug," said Daddy with a wink. "It would be best if you only go in there while your mom is out or when she's in bed so she isn't likely to hear you, but you can make all the phone calls you want in there from my office phone."

"Thank you so much!" Lydia exclaimed as she took the little gold key and shoved it in her pocket.

"Just make sure that you keep the door locked at all times. No one but you is ever to go in there."

"On my honor," said Lydia half-jokingly. She hugged her Daddy again before he went downstairs and retreated into his study.

Lydia spent the next couple of hours listening to music, reading magazines, and generally bemoaning her existence. Once Mom got home, Lydia went downstairs and offered to help with dinner. It wasn't unheard of for Mom to let her out of being grounded a day early if she took care to be especially helpful during that time.

"Yes, we're making meatloaf and mashed potatoes."

"No, Lydia. You need to slice the potatoes like _this_."

"Turn the heat down on the stove."

"I need the salt."

"Please set the table for two."

Those were the only words that Mom spoke throughout the entire meal preparation. When they'd finished making the meal, Mom piled three plates high with it and then wordlessly handed Lydia the biggest one to bring to Daddy in his study. Lydia had found him working at his typewriter, and he'd smiled warmly and passively thanked her for the meal between sentences.

"By the way," said Lydia's mom once they were both seated at the table, "You're grounded."

"I know. Daddy already told me."

"Good."

A few minutes later, Lydia asked if she could call Donna tomorrow after school let out to ask what homework they were supposed to do over break. Mom said yes. Other than that, they ate to the sound of the faucet dripping, the furnace rattling, and Mom's old record player tinkling out classical music in the background. It was a way of dining that they'd grown accustomed to over years of living together. Sometimes, when Daddy was at the table, there was more talking involved. But usually not.

Once they were done eating, Mom told Lydia that she had something to do and instructed her to go wash the dishes. The music continued playing as Lydia scrubbed all of the plates, pots, and pans that they'd used that night and Mom sat at the table writing a letter on crisp blue butterfly stationary. Eventually, Mom went outside and put the letter into the mailbox. Then she went upstairs and retired to her room. Lydia went to her own room and found a book to read for a while. When she left her room to go brush her teeth before bed, she heard her mother's muffled sobs coming from the master bedroom.

When Lydia was much younger, she had taken upon herself the challenge of trying to make Mom laugh. She had tried everything. Jokes. Skits. Stories. Nothing had worked. The best that she ever got was a small smile for her efforts that came and went as suddenly as a lightning bolt and as subtly as a single raindrop on a sunny day. When Lydia had told Daddy about it, she had confessed to him that she'd felt like she'd failed.

"It's not your fault, Lyddiebug," had been the man's response. "Your mother doesn't see the point in laughing. You know how she is."

Now, looking back, Lydia was convinced that it wasn't so much that Mom didn't see the point in laughing, but that she lacked the ability to laugh. Or perhaps even the ability to find something enjoyable enough to be worth laughing about.

* * *

Uncharacteristically, Lydia woke up before five o'clock in the morning that day (which probably had a lot to do with how uncharacteristically early she had gone to bed) to the sound of the front door to her house swinging open. She got out of bed and went to her window. Daddy was walking outside. For a moment, Lydia wondered if that meant that he was leaving for his business trip without saying goodbye to her. Then she realized that he didn't have his suitcase or his briefcase with him, or anything else for that matter.

Daddy walked down to the end of the driveway and opened up the mailbox. He pulled out the letter that Mom had written and put in the night before, shoved it into his jacket, and went back into the house. Lydia frowned. That was strange.

Lydia heard a door open and close twice-probably the door to Daddy's study, she wasn't sure-and then she heard Daddy come up the stairs. She waited to hear his knock on the door before she got out of bed and opened it. They hugged goodbye. He reminded her again to keep his study locked. And then he left.

Now, it was just Lydia and Mom.

Lydia spent most of the day alternating between reading and helping Mom with chores around the house. At around eleven o'clock in the afternoon, Mom informed Lydia that she was in luck.

"Because you have been so helpful this morning, I've decided that you get to come with me to a party this afternoon."

Lydia groaned inwardly. Now she almost regretted having been helpful, because an afternoon in Daddy's study by herself _had_ to be a better alternative to whatever Mom's idea of partying was.

"Don't look so disappointed," said Mom. "It's a neighborhood Christmas mixer. I'm sure that your friend Donna and her mother will be there."

Lydia brightened up when she heard that. That would give her a chance to catch up on all the gossip she'd missed in the last twenty-four hours. And find out if Harvey had moved on yet, and if so, with whom.

Not that it mattered. Harvey would never date Lydia again, knowing he risked disapproval from all his superiors in doing so.

The party turned out to be at the home of one of the women from the local rotary club (which one Lydia wasn't sure, as she found all of them to be relatively interchangeable aside from her own mother, not only because Mom was much quieter than the women she kept company with but also much less skilled in the art of the fake smile). There was a decent buffet table laid out right outside of the kitchen, where all the women had congregated to cook and gossip. Lydia thought at first that she was going to have to stay in the kitchen and help the other women cook because she was already in trouble anyway, but Mom told her to go off and have fun "with the other kids" almost immediately after they got there. Lydia was happy to oblige.

Lydia found the other teens and young adults in the dining room, which had nothing in it but a few stray chairs, a record player, and an open cooler full of sodas. There were twelve people in the room, only four of whom were familiar. Lydia's friend Jill was standing over by the window and sharing a soda with her boyfriend Charlie. Jill's cousin, Olivia, was sitting in a chair by the record player polishing off a slice of pecan pie. And Donna was sitting on the floor in one corner laughing. When Donna saw Lydia, she sat up straight and frantically motioned for her to come over.

"Lydia, come quick! Something terrible has happened!"

Lydia carefully knelt down on the floor in her dress. "What's wrong? Tell me everything!"

Donna took a deep breath, then sat up and leaned close to Lydia's ear and whispered her news.

 _"_ _My best friend got caught making out with her boyfriend during class, her boyfriend broke up with her, she got suspended from school, and her parents_ grounded _her!"_

Lydia frowned. "That was _me_."

Donna's eyes widened with shock, she burst out giggling, and then she frantically glanced around the room to see if anyone had been watching her laugh.

"Did Janice bring brownies to school for lunch by any chance?" asked Lydia.

"Yeah, she did!" said Donna. "And I ate _two_ of them!"

Lydia let out an exasperated sigh.

Suddenly, Donna's eyes widened. "Psst! Lydia!"

"What?"

"Whatever you do…" Donna lowered her voice even further. "Do not. Turn. Around."

Lydia's thin eyebrows furrowed. Then, in spite of what the other girl had just said, she slowly turned around and looked over her shoulder.

Of all the people whom she'd been expecting to run into at a Christmas mixer thrown by one of Mom's friends, a dime store cowboy sure as hell hadn't been one of them. And she told him as much with the look of contempt that she shot him the moment she laid eyes on him. He returned the look with a smirk.

Lydia got to her feet and braced herself for whatever stupid thing Jimmy was going to do next. Maybe he was going to walk over to her and say something about what had happened at the club the other day just loudly enough for everyone else to hear. Maybe he was going to say something about the song that he had sung to her in a way that made it sound like she had actually liked it. Or…gasp…maybe he was coming over to hit on her.

Well, instead of doing any of those things, Jimmy James did the most infuriating thing that he possibly could have done to Lydia Brigard in that moment.

He ignored her.

Fury swelled in the teenage girl's chest as she watched the cowboy circle the room. He made small talk with a group of boys for a minute and did something to make them all laugh with him. Then he went over to Jill and her boyfriend and complimented Jill's dress and told them that they looked cute together. Then he went over to Olivia, who was still sitting right by the record player, and politely asked her if he could change the song.

 _This is it,_ thought Lydia. _He's going to put on_ All The Time _and use it to humiliate me._

Or maybe he was going to put on some other love song-probably a country song-and ask her to dance with him to it. Either way, Lydia knew that she was about to die of embarrassment. She could just imagine how awful it would be. Jimmy would walk up to her, hold out his hand, and ask her to dance as nicely as could be. The smile on his face would suggest that he was a perfect gentlemen, but the beautiful blue eyes behind it would be taunting her, threatening to tell everyone the story of how she and her friends accidentally got so baked that they ate food at a country music club. On the _stage_ no less.

Lydia wasn't sure what she felt in the pit of her stomach when the song that Jimmy put on the record player was _Route 66_. Or when he walked over to a random group of females clustered in a corner and began charming them with his stupid hick accent and his stupid Southern manners.

When they realized that a good fast-paced song was playing, Jill and her boyfriend went out in the middle of the floor and began dancing together. Two other couples did the same thing as well. A few boys and girls who'd just met randomly grouped up. Jimmy danced with one of the females he'd just begun talking up. Olivia began looking for other good dancing songs to play to keep the party going for a while. Donna leaned on Lydia's shoulder and randomly burst into giggles every few minutes. And Lydia sat there and stared as Jimmy danced with the random girl.

When the song changed, everyone who wasn't there with their own boyfriend or girlfriend switched partners. Jimmy found another girl to dance with to _Straighten Up and Fly Right_. At the end of that song, the girl he'd been dancing with excused herself and left the party. Jimmy walked her to the door and kissed her hand on the way out. Donna squealed and muttered something about how adorable they were. Lydia gave her a look.

Now, everyone on the dance floor was already paired up except for Jimmy. The next song had already begun. Lydia held in a satisfied smile as Jimmy made his way over to where she was sitting with Donna.

"Good afternoon, pretty lady," Jimmy knelt down on the ground and faced Donna directly. She giggled. "Would you like to dance?"

Lydia's jaw clenched with rage.

"You're so sweet!" said Donna. "But I can't dance right now. The soldier in the corner keeps looking at me," she pointed to the giant wooden nutcracker, "And I'm afraid that I might make him jealous."

"Don't worry about him," said Jimmy. "He was only looking at you because I asked him to find out if you were single."

"Oh! Well then, of course."

Jimmy helped Donna to her feet, led her out to the middle of the dance floor, and began swaying with her to the beat of the music. All the couples around them danced quickly while Donna alternated between stepping on Jimmy's feet and tripping over her own. After the fourth time that Donna came close to bashing her forehead on Jimmy's shoulder, Lydia finally squared her shoulders, scraped together what was left of her dignity, and walked over to them.

"Hey, Donna?"

Donna heard Lydia's voice but jerked her head in the opposite direction.

Lydia looked at Jimmy. "She needs to sit down," she said quickly as she pried Donna from his arms and moved her into a nearby chair.

"Are you alright, little lady?" asked Jimmy.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" said Donna. "Just a little worried about the soldier is all. I really do think that he might be mad at me for dancing with you."

"Hmm." Jimmy folded his arms across his chest. "Would you, uh…would you like me to go have a word with him for you?"

"No!" exclaimed Donna. "That's just gonna make everything worse! You have to dance with someone else so that he knows you're not in love with me."

"You want me to dance with someone in the room who is not you?"

"Yes."

Jimmy looked at Donna and slowly turned as he did a full 360 scan of the room. He ignored Lydia, who was standing right next to him, but did stop for a few seconds to rest his eyes on some of the other girls who already had dance partners. The only person not dancing other than Lydia, Donna, and Jimmy was Jill, who was changing out the music in the record player.

"Sorry," said Jimmy. "I don't see think I see any girls who would dance with me if I asked them."

"I'll dance with you!" Lydia finally said.

Then, for the first time since he'd walked through the door at that party, Jimmy looked at her, eyebrows quirked. Then a slow smile spread across Jimmy's face.

"Don't mind if I do."

Lydia felt her heartbeat quicken-with fury, obviously-as Jimmy held out his hand and led her out to the dance floor. Just as they stepped out, a slow song started playing. Both of them noticed that the other one was smiling as she gripped his right shoulder with one hand and her held her left hand in his right.

"So, tell me about yourself, little lady," said Jimmy.

"Not much to tell, I'm afraid. I'm just a standard issue eighteen-year-old Braxton High senior with straight A's and a rich boyfriend on the lacrosse team."

"You don't seem that ordinary to me. Especially since you are obviously lying about the rich boyfriend part."

Lydia pursed her lips. "How _dare_ you?"

"How dare I what?"

Lydia's breath caught in her throat for a moment when Jimmy slowly turned her around in a circle and dipped her. When she stood up, she stood up too quickly-unintentionally, of course-and almost fell forward, her chest grazing Jimmy's for the briefest of seconds.

"Okay, so let's say that you do have this rich boyfriend," Jimmy repositioned his hands on Lydia where they'd been before. "Where is he right now?"

"I don't know. Probably at lacrosse practice."

Jimmy smirked again. Lydia's heart fluttered again-out of annoyance, of course.

"We broke up," she finally admitted.

"Ah," said Jimmy. "What happened?"

"We wanted different things."

"As in, you wanted to be his girlfriend, and he wanted you to not be his girlfriend?"

Lydia confirmed his suspicion with an irritated look and her silence.

"Don't worry," said Jimmy. "The last person I dated was too good for me, too."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you see, her father was the mayor of Westover."

"What's that?" asked Lydia, before she had a chance to remind herself things related to Jimmy James's existence were of no concern to her.

"Just a small farm town in North Carolina," Jimmy explained. "It's where I grew up. And let me tell you, I am not looking forward to running into that girl when I go home to visit my folks for Christmas. Mayor's daughter, too good to be seen with the son of a common mill worker."

"That's so awful," said Lydia, giving way to sympathy. "If that's how she felt about you, then why did she go out with you in the first place?"

"She was just in it for the fun. And possibly the free flour."

Lydia's eyes shone with sympathy as Jimmy reeled her in slightly closer to his body.

"Hey, Princess?" he whispered. "Look up."

Lydia quickly glanced up and saw that they were standing directly under the mistletoe. When she lowered her gaze, Jimmy's soulful blue eyes were waiting for her.

And in turn, her lips waited for him.


	4. Chapter 3: Don't Know What He's Missing

Lydia wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted, because the moment it began, every sense she possessed took flight except for her sense of touch. Jimmy James's lips anchored her feet to the floor, lifted her heart above the room, and lit her soul up like a Christmas tree. The tingling sensation shot through her veins, igniting senses she didn't know she'd had. In her forehead, in her fingertips, in her toes.

When he let go, Lydia normal state of awareness returned. She saw all of her friends-most dancing, a few staring at her and Jimmy-and heard Nat King Cole wishing all kids from one to ninety-two a merry little Christmas.

But she also felt the tingling in her fingertips and the fluttering in her heart.

Jimmy chuckled. "Well, that was fun."

"Wha…what?" Lydia stammered.

"Today will forever be remembered as the day that I coerced a princess into asking me to dance _and_ kissing me."

Jimmy released Lydia's hands, letting them drop to her sides.

"You…you got me to ask you to dance on _purpose_?"

"I know, right? The jackass has a brain. Pretty impressive."

Jimmy turned to leave. Lydia followed him out the door and down the hallway.

"Hey!" Lydia snapped. Jimmy finally turned around. "I _never_ said that I thought you were stupid."

"You never had to, Princess."

"How _dare_ you?"

"If there's one thing I learned two years ago when Pamela dumped me, it's that all of you uptown types are the same. You see the whole world as a pyramid and can't imagine why a person's dream could be anything other than to climb higher."

"That's not true!" Lydia protested. "You don't know the first thing about me!"

"Have a nice life, princess!"

"You too, jackass!" shouted Lydia.

She could have sworn she heard the faintest of chuckles out of him as he rounded the corner and disappeared.

"Lydia?"

Lydia took a deep breath before she turned to address her mother.

"Yeah?"

"We're leaving."

Lydia wordlessly followed Mom out to the car and sat down next to her. Neither of them spoke on the drive home. If Mom noticed that Lydia was crying, she didn't say anything.

* * *

By dinnertime, Lydia was back to normal. Or so she'd convinced herself. Why should she care what some dumb cowboy singer with deep blue eyes thought of who she was as a person? It wasn't like he was even that handsome. And for God's sake, she'd only ever met the guy two times. And both of their meetings had mostly consisted of him annoying the living daylights out of her.

Besides, she had more important things to worry about. Like how she was going to survive another five days alone in the house with Mom and when she was going to be able to talk to her friends next.

And then there was the new scrap of information she'd picked up about her parents' troubles.

Anything was better than thinking about that.

"Are you going anywhere tomorrow?" asked Lydia as they went inside.

"Charity bake sale and the grocery store," said Mom. "Do you want to come with me or stay home?"

"Stay home."

After that, peaceful silence took over the Brigard house once again.

Donna did manage to sneak one phone call to Lydia a few hours later. By that time, Lydia was so concerned about finding out what she'd missed at school that she didn't even think to mention the tall man with the cowboy boots. (Okay, maybe she did consider mentioning it once or twice, but if Mom had heard her talking it would have been pretty embarrassing.)

A couple of hours after the dinner dishes had been washed, Mom went up to Lydia's room and found her laying down on her stomach across the bed scratching into a notebook (writing a history paper, of course, because what else was she supposed to do with her time right now?) and told her that she was going to bed.

"Do you need anything?"

Lydia looked up from her notebook, rested her hand on one chin, and just stared at the older woman. She wasn't sure that Mom had ever asked her that question before in her life.

"You know. From the grocery store?"

Lydia forced a smile, not for the first time that day.

"No, thanks. I have everything I need."

* * *

The next morning, Lydia woke up just as the pancakes Mom had made were cooling down. She sat down to eat just as Mom was leaving the house and tossing out some last minute instructions about washing the plates and soaking the pan. Then Lydia was all alone. Having the whole house to herself was scant freedom compared to her usual ability to walk down the block to her friends' houses and go places with them. But at least it was something.

After eating and washing the dishes, Lydia carefully opened the door to the study and locked it shut behind her, giggling at the cheap thrill that entering a mostly-forbidden room by herself gave her. It felt strange being in here without Daddy to talk to or split a chocolate with. But at least his shiny black rotary phone sat on his desk, just waiting to be picked up and dialed. Lydia pulled the desk chair a few inches back from the desk and sat back in it, making herself comfortable. The first thing she did was try calling Janice and Robin at their houses, but no one answered the phones. And calling Donna again was out of the question, because if one of her parents answered the phone they might tell Mom about it. Lydia made her mind up to try calling Jill, but she didn't have her number memorized. Rather than go upstairs and take out her own address book, she decided to look for the phone book that she knew Daddy kept in his desk. Lydia looked up and down columns of shiny silver drawers and cabinets. She opened the largest drawer, the one on the bottom of the left side of Daddy's desk, and saw that the phone book was sitting underneath a cookie tin with "Merry Christmas 1956" enscribed on the lid. Lydia grabbed the tin, intending to move it out of the way, and accidentally pulled the lid off.

Inside the tin, there was a tightly-packed heap of crisp envelopes, all straight from Mom's stationery collection. Some of them were beginning to yellow around the edges. Some were brand new.

Lydia's pulse quickened as she picked up the envelope on the top-the one that Lydia was sure she'd seen Daddy taking out of the mail box just a few days ago. An address was written on the outside in Mom's neat, copperplate handwriting.

 _Lydia Weaver  
_ _2222 Sycamore Drive  
_ _Tree Hill, NC, 01982_

Lydia checked some of the other envelopes. They all had the same address written on them. Why was Daddy intercepting these letters? Was there something that Mom was trying to tell Lydia Weaver that she wasn't supposed to know? Or perhaps the other way around?

Lydia hesitated for a moment before ripping open the envelope. She knew that this letter hadn't been meant for her, and she also knew that the information inside could very well be unpleasant. But she had to know. So she read it.

 _"_ _My dear Lydia,  
_

 _I hope that this letter finds you and my son in good spirits and good health."_

Lydia's blood ran cold.

 _"_ _For the past fifteen years, I have written to my little boy once a month without fail in a desperate attempt to assure him that despite the amount of time that has passed since I last saw him, I love him and will never forget him. Even when I asked questions in my letters, I've never truly expected him to be able to write me back. But now, in this letter in which I am directly addressing you, I am begging you, please write me back and tell me what is to become of my Frankie._

 _Although I have not seen you in person since my wedding day, it doesn't escape me that being my husband's aunt, and now having been predeceased by both of your younger brothers, you surely must be getting on in years yourself. And I assure you that I will be fully sympathetic if you find that you are not up to the responsibility of caring for my son any longer. But please. I am begging you. If you do need to send Frankie to live somewhere else, please write me and tell me where he is going. I need to know that he's loved and safe. I'm sure you understand._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Josephine Brigard"_

What the hell was this? Lydia's mom had a son? Lydia had a _brother_? How could this be?

Lydia picked up the whole tin full of letters, shoved the drawer shut, locked the door to the study, and brought the tin up to her room. Then she sat down on the bed and dumped out the whole thing. She decided to open the oldest-looking envelope she could find. The fancy designs on the stationary of the letter inside had faded with time, as had the images of bears on the enclosed sheet of stickers. But the words were still legible.

 _"_ _Dear Frankie,_

 _I hope that you are having a good time with Auntie and that you are remembering to hold her hand when you cross the street and say your prayers before you go to bed every night. Make sure that she remembers to buy you a new sweater that fits when it starts getting cold. I know she doesn't have very much money, so I'll try and see if Marshall will let me send you one. I'll try and find a yellow one that's just the right size for an almost four-year-old boy._

 _Your sister is doing very well. She has learned her ABC's and how to write her name. When Marshall told her that he was going to buy her an Alice costume for Halloween, she asked him if you could come home and be her White Rabbit._

 _I miss you every moment of every day, my darling boy. I hope with all my heart that Marshall will let you and Auntie come here and visit us around the holidays. Tell her to give you a hug and a kiss for me. No matter where you are, no matter how far you are from me, you are my everything._

 _Love,_

 _Mommy"_

The paper trembled in Lydia's hands as her eyes grazed over the last word. Perhaps the most jarring detail of all was the rough scratching towards the bottom right corner of the paper. It was a crude resemblance of her own first name in bright yellow crayon.

In a desperate attempt to silence the questions that were flooding through her mind-when had her mother had a son, where was he now, why didn't she remember ever having been around him even though clearly she'd met him at some point-Lydia ripped open another envelope at complete random. This one had duck stickers included that clearly weren't quite as yellow as they'd been in their prime, but the stationery was still crisp and clean.

 _"_ _Dear Frankie,_

 _Today was your sister's first day of junior high. She looked so cute and grown-up walking down to that school bus with Robin and Donna in their new red and white uniforms. They're all very excited about drama class. Right now Lydia is telling everyone that she wants to be Grace Kelly when she grows up. Maybe someday you will get to see her again, if only in the movies._

 _I can't believe that you're going to be a teenager this year, my sweet baby. What are you hoping to get for your birthday? What sorts of things do you like? Maybe you still like stuffed animals? Maybe you like playing with toy cars?_

 _I'm sure that by now, getting letters from me must feel pretty funny. I must be nothing more than a wisp of a memory to you, if you even remember that you ever had a mommy at all. But in case it does mean anything to you, I want you to know that no matter what you do, no matter how much time and distance he chooses to put between us, I am always going to love you with all my heart._

 _Love,_

 _Mommy"_

Lydia did the math in her head as she put that letter away. He had turned thirteen the same year that she had. That could only mean that if Lydia was correct in assuming that this Frankie was her full-blood biological brother, he was her _twin_.

Lydia hit pause on sifting through the past decade and a half of her mother's heartache and hid the tin full of letters in her underwear drawer. Then she sat down on her bed and spent a long time watching the ceiling fan spin, and spin, and spin.

Eighteen years ago, Mom and Daddy had become parents to two children. And within four years of that happening, Daddy had chosen to send one of them away. He had chosen not to raise his own son. He had kept Mom from keeping touch with that boy. He had kept Lydia from finding out that she had a twin brother.

Lydia was not an only child. She had a twin brother named Frankie. She had been born with him, and been rocked to sleep with him, and learned how to walk and talk with him. And then he had been taken away from her and she was left with nothing. Not even memories.

This was why the house Lydia had grown up in had always been divided. Because it was missing someone.


	5. Chapter 4: One's On The Way

"Are you feeling okay, Lydia?" asked Mom. "You've barely touched your pasta."

"I'm fine," Lydia lied as she nibbled on a green bean for good measure. "Just tired."

"Tired from what?"

"Studying."

Mom looked a bit suspicious, but she accepted it.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?" Mom put a forkful of pasta in her mouth and glanced at Lydia.

"What happened to you and Daddy?"

Obviously startled by the blunt question, Mom coughed and brought her hand to her lips to keep the food in her mouth. Then she chewed and swallowed.

"Why are you asking me that?" Mom asked.

"I heard you guys arguing the other day," said Lydia. "Something about how Daddy did what he had to do, and how he didn't want you to make a sacrifice for me."

Lydia watched as Mom exhaled slowly and folded her hands in her lap.

"Why don't you finish eating dinner in your room, Lydia?"

"Okay," she said. She picked up her plate, tucked in her chair, and went upstairs to her bedroom without hesitation.

Apparently, Mom wasn't going to tell Lydia what happened to her brother. So she was going to have to find out for herself. She was going to do it. This Christmas, she was finally going to bring her family back together.

Within the hour, Lydia had a plan.

* * *

Okay, so maybe it wasn't a very _good_ plan. In fact, it was complicated, bogus, and contingent on the happening of as many as six impossible things. But considering the amount of time Lydia had had to put together such a plan, it was the best she could do.

Lydia locked the door to her parents' house shortly after midnight. Mom was always sound asleep by then, as were all the neighbors who were planning on being up in the morning for church the next day. The few other people who were still awake at this hour were bound to be up to no good themselves. Including the one person who Lydia could count on to help her.

The light went on behind the window on which Lydia was knocking, and then the blinds opened. Lydia smiled meekly as Janice's eyes widened with shock.

"Lydia? What are you doing here?"

"I need a huge favor."

"If you're looking for more brownies, my sister can't help me bake any right now. She's in the shower with her boyfriend."

"I need you to give me a ride downtown," Lydia whispered. "It's an emergency."

Janice's gaze softened when she saw the urgent look in her friend's eyes.

"Give me five minutes to get outside."

Once the girls were in the car, Lydia told Janice where to drop her off.

"What?" said Janice. "I thought you hated it there."

"I do hate it. There's just something I need to take care of."

"Okay," said Janice, although she was clearly confused by what was going on. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

"No, but if you could wait outside that would be great."

"Sure."

When they got to the place where Lydia wanted to go, Janice wished her luck.

"Just so you know," said Lydia. "At some point, I'm going to be gone for a few days. So don't freak out if nobody sees me or hears from me."

Janice's brow furrowed with worry. "A few days? Lydia, what is going on?"

"Don't worry," said Lydia. "I'm not doing anything illegal or stupid."

It showed on Janice's face that she might have believed that Lydia was being honest about the first part of that claim, but not the second.

"I'll tell you guys about it later. Catch you on the rebound."

Lydia gave her friend a quick hug before walking off and getting in line. The bouncer, having recognized her from the last time he'd seen her, didn't even check her I.D. this time, but he did casually pinch her ass as she walked through the door. The amount of cigarette smoke in the air was even more unbearable than Lydia had remembered. The lights were slightly less dim, which gave her a significantly better view of littered cigarette butts and peanut shells, spittoons, and the various sets of antlers that could be seen throughout the room.

"Excuse me?"

The middle-aged balding man standing behind the bar served a beer to a random customer before approaching Lydia with a wide grin.

"What here for you tonight, little lady?"

"I'm actually looking for Jimmy James. Is he here?"

"Oh, as a matter of fact, he just finished up his last song for the night and left." Lydia's face fell. "But I'm still here!"

The bartender moved to touch Lydia's arm. She pulled back. He grabbed her hand and held it still. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Now, how about you be a bunny and let me buy you a drink?"

"Smithy, knock it off!"

Lydia turned around slowly and saw that Jimmy was standing behind her. The bartender let out an exasperated sigh and opened his grip. He walked away.

"You should probably call yourself a cab, Princess."

"I don't need a cab," said Lydia. "I came here to talk to you."

"I'll take it your champagne-soaked brain can't handle the reality that I was messing with you at the party the other day."

"That kiss has nothing to do with why I'm here, Jackass," said Lydia. "And I'm not drunk. At all."

"You? Slumming it sober?"

"I already told you, I came here to talk to you."

"And why might that be?"

Lydia extracted a necklace from her purse. She held it out on the palm of her hand so that the jewels were swinging from it.

"You see this necklace? It's worth six hundred dollars. I need a ride to North Carolina. If you'll take me with you when you drive down there for Christmas, I'll give you my necklace. You can take it to a pawn shop and buy yourself a new guitar or something. What do you say?"

Jimmy spent a full twenty seconds starring at Lydia before he burst out laughing.

"You want me to spend ten hours trapped in a car with _you_? What on earth makes you think that I would agree to something like that?"

Lydia exhaled and looked away. "Nothing," she realized. "I never should have thought that you would. It's just something I had to try."

"If you need to get to North Carolina that badly, why don't you just ask your rich Daddy to loan you his car?"

"Obviously, I cannot do that, because he has no idea that I'm leaving."

"You're running away from your torturous life of prep school and wine tastings?"

"No!"

Jimmy paused, slightly taken aback by the fact that Lydia had actually yelled. And by the fact that for a fleeting moment, her expression more closely resembled one of sadness than one of rage.

"I'm going to North Carolina to look for my brother."

Jimmy looked for a moment like he was going to say something snarky, but instead he waited for her to finish.

"My Daddy sent him away to live with relatives when we were three, and no one I know has seen him since. I just found out that he exists today."

Jimmy starred at Lydia for a long beat.

"So, when you say six hundred dollars, you mean six hundred _American_ dollars, right?"

Lydia almost chuckled with relief.

"Of course."

"Meet me outside the general store on second street in eight hours. We leave at six."

* * *

When Jimmy found Lydia standing outside the general store wearing nothing but a long simple dress, boots, and a jacket, he was surprised but not displeased. She had the exact opposite reaction to the look of his mint green chevy pickup truck. She guessed that it not only had seen more miles than she had, but more years.

"I see you pack light," Jimmy greeted Lydia as he glanced at her small red suitcase and bulky white handbag.

"Well, I'll only be gone for a few days."

Jimmy smirked again. Was he being sarcastic? Lydia wasn't sure anymore. He helped her climb into the truck and put her suitcase in the back. Lydia kept the closest thing she could manage to a smile in that moment pasted across her face as the old vehicle sputtered and coughed its way down the street, through bends and turns, and then out onto the nearest freeway.

"How long does the drive usually take?" Lydia asked.

"Usually about nine hours or so. Longer if we get caught in traffic."

Lydia nodded. Nine hours in the truck with the jackass and then however long it took her to get from Westover to Tree Hill by bus. By the end of today, Lydia was going to meet her twin brother.

"Oh, and before I forget, there are two rules," said Jimmy. "Driver picks the music, shotgun sucks it up and listens."

"Got it," said Lydia as she nervously folded her hands in her lap. Some dust crumbled down from the roof of the truck and landed on one of her pink boots.

"That was only my first rule. Second rule, Bob outranks you."

"Right. Of course."

The engine coughed as the truck gained speed.

"Bob's the truck, right?"

"Don't be a bunny," said Jimmy. "The truck's name is Loretta."

"Then who's Bob?"

"Look down."

Lydia nervously looked down at her feet. Curled up on her purse was a sizable calico cat.

"No, cat!" said Lydia. "Not on my…"

"Hey!" Lydia pulled back with a start at Jimmy's tone. "What did I just tell you, Princess?"

"Bob outranks me," Lydia mumbled.

"Good girl."

Jimmy turned on the radio and fiddled with it until it landed on a song comparing trucks to guns to horses to women.

Lydia grit her teeth. Nine hours of country music, coming right up.

* * *

Two hours into the drive, Jimmy spat a mouthful of chewing tobacco out the window. Bob was still using Lydia's handbag as a pillow. Through the radio, Dolly Parton asked her mother to say a prayer for her out in the cold lonely world. Lydia gazed out the window of the car, the road signs telling her how far she'd come.

"You having second thoughts, Princess?"

Lydia shook her head. "No."

"Reckon your parents are on the phone with the police department by now?"

"Probably," said Lydia. "Although I did leave a note for my mom."

"Did you tell her where you were going?"

"Of course not."

"Right." Jimmy cleared his throat. "Do you think she even knows he exists? Your brother, I mean?"

"She'd have to know. She gave birth to him."

Jimmy's brow wrinkled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. He was my twin."

Jimmy was quiet for a moment.

"That sounds…" Jimmy spent a moment thinking, and the best word that he could come up with was, "Intense."

"Yeah," said Lydia. "Turns out that princess life isn't all about champagne and fancy cars after all. Shocking, right?"

"Hey, I never said it was," Jimmy replied defensively. "I also mentioned something about all the rich boyfriends you must have."

"And I told you that I don't have a rich boyfriend right now because he broke up with me."

"Right. Like you don't have another one waiting in the wings."

"Not really," said Lydia. "There's other boys at my school who'd be willing to date me, but most of them are jerks, losers, my exes, or all of the above."

"How many exes you got?"

Lydia thought about it for a minute. "Twelve. Twice that many if you count the ones I dated for less than a week. Which I don't."

"Holy crap, Princess. Just how young were you when you started dating?"

"I started dating at the beginning of high school. You do realize that high school is four years long, right?"

"Yeah. I do realize that. I graduated, thank you very much."

Lydia heard a hissing noise coming from down below. She glanced at Bob, who was still maintaining his claim on her handbag.

"So, how many girls did you go out with in high school?" Lydia asked Jimmy.

"Two."

"Why only two? Does Westover not have any girls in it besides the one who broke your heart?"

"For your information, there were _twelve_ girls in my graduating class. At least a handful always single."

"And it was _still_ hard for you to get a date?" Lydia quipped.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not nearly as loose as you are."

Lydia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Bob snarled and swatted at a fly.

"Did you just call me a _slut_?"

Jimmy shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

"Not that this is any of your business, Jackass, but I am a _virgin_."

"Seriously?"

"Yes!"

Sure, two days ago she'd retained her virginity by a very narrow margin and entirely because of the intervention of outside forces. But facts were facts.

"If you weren't sleeping with all those guys, then what was the point of dating all of them?"

Lydia tossed Jimmy a smug smile as Bob began rubbing himself against her leg.

"Companionship. Romance. All that stuff that _girls_ think about when they're looking for someone to date."

"Please," said Jimmy. "Most of your relationships have lasted less than a week."

"That's because I started to get to know them and realized I didn't like them," Lydia explained. "That's kind of the whole point of dating."

"How long were you dating the last guy you broke up with?" asked Jimmy.

"A month and a half. But," Lydia added with a hint of pride, "He's been in love with me since the beginning of the school year."

"How do you know that?"

"He would decorate my locker with roses once or twice a week. At least, I'm assuming it was him. There was this other guy who was kind of into me who might have had the guts to do something like that, but Harvey was more the sappy romantic type."

"And after months of this poor guy throwing flowers at you, you finally chose to bestow your cute little self upon him so that he would buy you even more things."

"That's not how it happened at all!" Lydia protested. "I was already dating somebody when Harvey started asking me out."

"Yeah? What was that guy like?"

"He was alright," said Lydia. "Kind of a cheapskate."

That time, even Lydia knew she'd walked right into the smirk.

"So, what about you? What happened to the girls you dated in high school?"

Not that Lydia actually cared what had become of Jimmy's former high school girlfriends, but she figured that if he was going to sit here and interrogate her about her love life, it was only fair that she got to do the same to him.

"Well, I already told you about Pamela. She turned out to be a pretentious brat like you, and now she's probably married to the pastor's son."

Lydia decided to ignore the insult. "What about the other one?"

"Bob told me to dump her."

Lydia looked down at the cat who was now sitting atop her feet. She reached down and tried to pet him. He lightly swatted her hand away but kept sitting on her feet. Then she looked up and saw that they were pulling off the highway.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Loretta needs gas."

Lydia looked out the windows as Jimmy drove them down a short, twisty poorly-maintained excuse for a road. They passed a sign that was supposed to read "Gas Station 0.5 Miles" only someone had scribbled out the G in gas and added an additional S at the end.

"Do you know where we are?" asked Lydia.

"Yeah," said Jimmy. "I come through here every time I drive home. Trust me, this is one of the nicest neighborhoods I've ever seen."

Lydia wasn't sure how she felt about trusting the judgement of a man who let a cat make his decisions for him, but it appeared that she didn't have much choice.

The gas station they pulled into had exactly two pumps, one of which was out of order and the other one of which had "Jill and Joe Fucked Here" written across the top in thick black ink. A dozen men were seated on the porch to the place, knocking back beers and making jokes of a nature that Lydia found repulsive.

"I'll be right back," said Jimmy cheerfully. Lydia's face visibly blanched as he hopped out of the truck and shoved his keys in his front pocket. "If Loretta catches fire, save Bob first."

He slammed the truck shut and walked away, disappearing through the uncomfortable crowd of strangers and behind the front door. Lydia glanced around apprehensively.

"He _was_ kidding about us catching fire. Right, Bob?"

The cat responded by scratching his chin on her knee.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Lydia sighed and absentmindedly scratched the top of Bob's head. This time, he did not pull away and actually began to lean into her fingers after a few seconds. So apparently being stroked was horrible, but being scratched was great. Who knew?

After twenty minutes had passed, Lydia finally made up her mind to figure out what was taking Jimmy so long and got out of the car, accidentally locking it behind her in the process. Oh well. At least Jimmy had left a small section of the top of his window rolled down. No doubt more out of concern for Bob than Lydia, she thought.

Before Lydia even reached the porch steps, she received several wolf whistles from the ruffians guarding the door.

"Damn, you bitchn' girl!" said one thin-haired blonde boy with two empty beers in his lap.

"Nice ass, wench!" called another boy, which earned him several high-fives from his buddies. Lydia kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she broke her way through the maze of rough hands and perverted gazes.

"Hey, bitch, suck my cock!" yelled one guy.

Lydia took a deep breath as she moved to open the door. One calloused palm gripped her ankle just as her hand was about to graze the handle. She froze.

"Let me go."

The hand kept it's grip on her leg. It's owner spoke.

"I said, I want you to suck my cock. Didn't your mother ever teach you how to respond when someone gives you a compliment?"

"No," said Lydia. "But she did tell me never to put small things in my mouth."

All of the guys surrounding her ceased to talk and laugh. Several of them backed away. The man who was holding onto Lydia's leg sat up and kept his grip.

"What did you say?"

All eyes stared at Lydia in stunned silence.

"You heard me."

Lydia tried to pull away, but the man tightened his grip.

"Let's teach this bitch a lesson."

Lydia's free leg gave way as the man yanked her left leg out from under her.

"Hey!"

Before Lydia had a chance to even realize what was happening, she saw her attacker turn around. She saw the large, tan fist strike directly in the bridge of his nose. And then she felt the hand pull her to her feet.

"Jimmy?"

"Who are you?" asked the attacker.

"I'm her husband, punk, who the hell are you?" Jimmy replied. He grabbed Lydia's hand and ran back to the truck. Unwilling to give the group any more time to think over this new bit of information, they jumped into Loretta and drove away.


	6. Chapter 5: Gone Too Long

Chapter 5: Gone Too Long

"So, the bad news is that you owe me ten dollars for the gas I just paid for," said Jimmy. When Lydia didn't respond, he looked over at her in the seat next to him and saw that she still had tears streaming down her face. Bob had jumped into her lap and curled up against her chest, although he was still swatting her hand away every time she tried to stroke him.

"Hey." Lydia looked up and tried to blink back tears at the sound of Jimmy's quiet voice. "Are you hurt?"

Lydia shook her head. Bob nudged her hand several times until she started to scratch his chin.

"Next time I tell you to stay in the truck, stay in the truck," said Jimmy.

"What took you so long?"

"The line got held up. Some idiot yelling about the price of tobacco."

A few minutes later, they pulled into a different, somewhat nicer looking gas station. This time, Lydia stayed in the truck. She opened up her suitcase, shuffled some of the things she'd packed around, and got out the tin of letters that Mom wrote to Frankie. There were still over six hours left before she and Jimmy would get to North Carolina, and she might as well spend that time learning as much information about her brother as she could.

When Jimmy returned to the truck, he had a paper box in his hand. He opened it up to reveal half a dozen doughnuts.

"Figured you must be hungry by now," he said as he got back into the truck and revved the engine.

"I am," said Lydia, although she hadn't even realized yet that she was hungry. "Thanks."

"I was talking to Bob," said Jimmy. "But I suppose you could have some, too."

That time, Lydia could tell by the playful sparkle in his eyes that he was kidding.

"Jackass," she said with a smile as she took the box of doughnuts and set it on the dashboard. Jimmy tossed the smallest, plainest one on the floor behind the front seat. Bob jumped up and dove after it, nearly faceplanting on the floor as he did so. Lydia laughed. Then Jimmy took a chocolate doughnut out of the box for himself and left the rest for her to choose from. She picked a strawberry one.

As Lydia, Jimmy, and Bob ate their doughnuts in relative silence, Lydia's mind went back to the events of just a little while ago. It had all happened so quickly. Being thrown on the ground by the brute. Jimmy punching him. Jimmy helping her to her feet. Both of them making a run for it.

Obviously, she was extremely grateful that Jimmy had shown up when he had and chosen to stand up for her. And obviously she was perfectly okay with the fact that he had claimed to be her husband in order to throw off the attackers. But there was something odd about the way that he had told the other man off. Something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

 _"_ _I'm her husband, punk, who the hell are you?"_

Lydia turned the phrase over and over in her mind as the truck rattled back up the ramp and onto the freeway. Thankfully, they hadn't lost as much time as she'd thought they had.

"So this brother of yours. Where exactly does he live?"

"In Tree Hill with my aunt."

"Tree Hill, huh? I know where that is. It's only about thirty miles out from my folks."

Thirty miles. By bus, that could take hours.

"Do you have her address?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah. Never been there before, though."

Once she was finished with her doughnut, Lydia put the doughnut box at her feet and dumped some of the letters out onto her lap. Jimmy asked what they were. Lydia explained as she opened the first one she was planning on reading. He turned up his country music and allowed her to read in peace.

Lydia could pinpoint the time around which each of the letters was written based on the events that Mom had described in them. They covered everything from her Kindergarten art projects to her senior homecoming. She noticed that while a lot of the older letters contained promises that she would ask "Marshall" if Frankie could come home for a visit, most of the new ones just said "I miss you" or "I hope you're having a good time with Auntie" or something along those lines.

"Did you find what you're looking for?" asked Jimmy.

Lydia looked down at the letter she'd just finished reading. It was an older one, in which her mother told Frankie of an outing to the zoo with Daddy and Lydia. The strangest thing about the earlier letters was the affectionate light in which Mom referred to both of her children. In one anecdote about a Christmas party, Mom even referred to Lydia as Lyddiebug.

"I'm not sure."

After thinking about it for a few more minutes, Lydia added, "You know what's really weird?" Jimmy turned the volume of the music down a bit so that he could hear her. "In all of these letters, even the ones that I know were only written a month or two ago, my mom talks to my brother the same way."

"How so?"

"She's writing to him as if he's still only three years old. She's even included stickers for him in every single letter she's written. It's like she doesn't even realize that he's the same age I am now."

"Maybe she still thinks of him as her little boy. You know how mothers are."

"That's not how my mother is. At least not with me. She worries about me and all, but I don't remember the last time she hugged me or told me she loved me."

Jimmy shot her a sympathetic glance but didn't say anything.

A few seconds later, out of nowhere, a car from the adjacent lane pulled out in front of Jimmy's truck. Lydia jolted with a start. Jimmy laid on the horn.

"Way to signal, asshole!" shouted Jimmy.

Lydia frowned. There it was again, the same jarring difference in his way of speaking that she'd noticed when he'd yelled at the man at the gas station.

It was then that she finally realized what it was.

"Your southern accent disappears when you're angry."

Jimmy sighed. "Yeah. I forget to keep it on."

"Wait a second. Your accent is fake?"

Jimmy grinned sheepishly. Lydia burst out laughing.

"Oh, come on, it's not that funny!" said Jimmy, this time in a typical American accent with no drawl.

"But _why_?"

"Well, when you spend most of your time singing country songs about growing up on a farm, people expect you to sound like a typical country western star."

"I didn't think you were the type to care so much about what other people expect of you," said Lydia. After a second's consideration, she realized out loud, "You do this to pick up girls, don't you?"

Jimmy shrugged flippantly. "Maybe."

Lydia giggled. "Does that ever actually work?"

"Worked on you, didn't it?"

Lydia stiffened. She'd managed to forget all about the stuff that had happened at the Christmas party.

"I'm sorry," Jimmy finally said. "I shouldn't have kissed you just to make a point."

Lydia looked away. She didn't want to admit it just yet, but he wasn't wrong about the way she'd looked down on him.

"If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because his father didn't think I was good enough for him."

Jimmy squinted. "Hmm. Maybe that helps a little."

Lydia playfully whacked him on the elbow with one of her letters. Both of them laughed.

"What were you doing at that Christmas party, anyway?" Lydia asked. "I thought it was just for members of the rotary club."

"I show up at a lot of their Saturday bake sales," said Jimmy. "Their apple pie is delicious."

Delicious or not, Lydia knew that buying goods at a charity bake sale had to be more expensive than buying them anywhere else. Not to mention out of Jimmy's way.

Two hours later, Jimmy and Lydia stopped at another gas station. They were back on the road fairly quickly. Then continued to eat doughnuts while Jerry Lee Lewis promised to try his best in every way to make love sweeter for them and Buck Owens asked them who was gonna mow their grass after he was gone.

"Let's play a game," Lydia suggested once they were done eating. "It's called two truths and a lie."

"How does it work?"

"I tell you two things that are true about myself, and one thing that's not true. And you have to guess which one is the lie."

Jimmy smiled and glanced at her. "Shoot."

"Okay," said Lydia. "I've been out with over twenty guys in the past four years, I plan on being the first female president of the United States of America, and I cheated on a math test once when I was twelve."

"Hmmm." Jimmy thought for a moment. "Well, I would assume that the first one was the lie if you hadn't already told me about it. So I'm guessing that the lie is that thing about you being president."

"Nope," said Lydia. "That one's true."

"So the lie was the test thing?"

"Yep. I've only ever cheated on one test in my life, and it was in seventh grade English."

Jimmy clicked his tongue. "Naughty girl."

"That was the one and only time that I flat-out forgot to read a book for one of my classes," said Lydia. "Although in my defense, I actually bought the book and then my mom accidentally donated it to the children's home."

Jimmy laughed. "Okay, my turn. I worked a part-time gig at a power plant when I was in high school. The first song I ever sang at a bar was _Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven_ by Loretta Lynn. And I've been taking bull riding lessons since I was six."

"That's easy," said Lydia. "The power plant thing is the lie."

"Of course not," Jimmy replied incredulously. "Do you really think that six-year-olds can take bull riding lessons? What the heck is wrong with you?"

"That's not fair!" Lydia protested. "You know damn well that I grew up in the city."

"True," said Jimmy. "But I'm sure that you've at least been to a rodeo." Lydia shook her head. "Oh, come on! County fair, maybe?"

"Nope."

Jimmy shook his head and looked away from her. "And here I was just starting to think there might be hope for you, Princess."

Lydia laughed in spite of herself.

"Well, if it helps, I have been horseback riding."

"Have you really? Pony rides don't count."

"I took some riding lessons when I was in junior high."

"Western or English?"

"English pleasure."

"Eh," Jimmy hesitated. "Close enough."

Lydia smiled.

"Did you ever learn how to jump?"

"I was starting to," said Lydia. "Then one day, the horse I was riding got stung by a bee just as we were about to go over a cross-rail. He did the jump wrong and got his rear hoof stuck on one of the poles, and I ended up falling off and breaking my arm. The lesson was almost over when it happened, so when my mom got there to pick me up, I was surrounded by paramedics and about to be loaded into the back of an ambulance. Come to think of it, I think that's the most scared I've ever seen her in my life. Even after they told her I was going to be okay, her hands still kept shaking all the way to the hospital. She was holding onto me and kept stroking my back and telling me that I was going to be okay and…"

Lydia was quiet for a few minutes after that.

"Are you okay?" asked Jimmy.

"That was it. That was the last time my mom hugged me and told me she loved me."

Jimmy smiled sympathetically. They spent the next stretch of the ride in relative silence. Lydia scratched Bob's chin with the tip of her left heel and held the tin of letters close.


	7. Chapter 6: We've Come A Long Way Baby

Lydia's heart began racing the moment she woke up and saw the bright green gas station sign out the window of the car. She calmed down a bit when she realized that this wasn't the same gas station where she'd gotten attacked earlier that same day, but was startled to realize that she had fallen asleep.

"Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty," said Jimmy.

Lydia wasn't sure if that was an actual compliment or a reference to her new moniker of Princess, but she smiled anyway. When Jimmy turned on the car, the clock on the dashboard read 1:15.

Only two hours left.

"So, what I'm getting from this drive is that once you leave the city, America is all gas stations and liquor stores."

"That's not true!" Jimmy protested. "Didn't you ever take a geography class?"

"Dude," said Lydia. "I was kidding. It's just that that's all we've seen."

"Maybe on the way back up, we should go sightseeing. Check out the capital so you can see where you'll be working when you become president."

"I can't ride back with you," said Lydia. "I'd have to be away from home all the way through Christmas."

"Right," Jimmy realized. A moment later, he asked, "How _are_ you planning on getting home?"

Lydia sighed. "I guess I'll take the train and put it on my credit card."

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place?" asked Jimmy.

"Because my credit card is on my dad's account. If I'd tried to use it to come down here, he might have called and found out where I was going."

"What happens if they call him from the train station in North Carolina and tell him where you are?"

"I don't care. By that time, I'll have done what I needed to do anyway."

The song that was playing on the radio ended. It switched to Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.

"You're a lot braver than I'd have given you credit for, Princess," Jimmy admitted.

"I'm not sure you're right about that," said Lydia. "Maybe I'm just very stupid, pissed at life, and reckless."

"You seem pretty sure about your reasons for doing it though. That's something."

"I am," Lydia brushed a long strand of hair away from her face. "In my mind I just keep cycling back through all of these letters I've read, and none of them explain why my daddy decided that he wanted to send his three-year-old son away to live with another family. I mean…he was three. It doesn't make any sense."

Lydia was quiet for a moment. Then suddenly, she noticed that Jimmy was also quiet.

"What?" she asked.

"I didn't say anything."

"Do you have a theory?"

Jimmy hesitated. "Yes. But I don't think you'll like it."

"You can tell me," said Lydia. Anything was better than nothing.

"Maybe things are different in the city," Jimmy carefully started. "But where I come from, it hasn't always been uncommon for folks to send away a child that's handicapped."

"What? Do you mean handicapped like, in a wheelchair or something?"

"No. More like retarded."

Lydia froze.

"It's just a theory," Jimmy added quickly.

Lydia desperately wanted to be able to protest that that was _not_ the way things were done in the city. But she couldn't think of a single example to back her up.

"I don't think that my family ever would have done such a thing," Lydia finally said. "Besides, there are facilities all over the country, aren't there? I'm sure that if my parents ever had had a child that were…living with that sort of issue, they would have found a way to keep him in Tennessee, at least. That's no reason to send your child to be raised by someone else in another state and pretend that he never existed."

"Maybe your father sent your brother to live with family out of compassion," Jimmy gently suggested. "Thought he'd be better off there than in an institution."

"But if he doesn't have to live at an institution, then why didn't they just keep him at home?"

"Can't help you there, Princess."

A few minutes later, Bob jumped up on Lydia's lap. Lydia spent what felt like a longer time than it actually was just staring out the window and gently scratching Bob's head while he alternated between squirming and sleeping in her lap. Then she asked Jimmy to turn up the volume on the radio. He did. She sat back in her seat and let Patsy Cline drown out her thoughts.

There were worse things in life than country music.

By the time Jimmy's hand finally reached to turn the volume back down, he and Lydia were half an hour away from his parents' house.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jimmy finally asked. Lydia shook her head. "Suit yourself."

In spite of her answer, Lydia spoke a couple of minutes later.

"Why do you think that no one ever told me about him?"

Jimmy shifted in his seat. "Well, I don't know your family. Is there any chance that they were just trying to protect you?"

"Maybe," said Lydia. "That sounds like Daddy."

After all, he was the one who'd always begged Mom not to instigate fights with him when Lydia was around or over things that might make her feel guilty. And the one who'd always come to comfort her when she was present for these arguments. And the one who'd always held her when she was sad and taken her to the mall and bought her pretty things to cheer her up when he knew someone had disappointed her.

How could someone be so caring and protective towards one of their children and give away the other one?

"Or maybe," Jimmy suggested, "They were afraid of what you'd think of them."

"Maybe."

The tears began to return to Lydia's eyes.

"Hey."

Lydia looked up at Jimmy and tried to wipe one of her cheeks dry with the sleeve of her sweater.

"We're almost at my parents' house. And it's getting late. Want to stop in and have a bite to eat? Maybe take a ride on my father's prize bull?"

That got a chuckle out of her.

"I'd love to, but I really should get going. I'm not sure how I'm going to get to Tree Hill by nightfall."

"Don't worry about that," said Jimmy. "I'll take you myself."

"You don't have to do that," Lydia insisted. "It wasn't part of the deal."

Jimmy sighed. "Well, what can I say? Your unnecessarily complicated self intrigues me, Lydia."

Lydia smiled. And not just because he'd called her by her actual name for the first time since they'd met.

"Plus, Bob seems to approve of you," said Jimmy.

As they spoke, the cat was curled up in a neat, cozy ball on Lydia's lap. He was using her left wrist as a pillow and purring contentedly as she scratched him.

"He's a good cat," Lydia admitted. "Just tough. And squirmy."

"Yep," said Jimmy. "Sort of like you."

Lydia shot a playful glare in his direction as they drove on.

Soon, Lydia noticed that they were driving past many large estate-like homes surrounded by lush green pastures and large stable blocks. As they drew further into the country, however, the buildings shrunk and became less reminiscent of mansions, the pastures grew more dirty than grassy, and the road grew more bumpy. Eventually, they drove under a rustic old sign that read "Welcome to Westover".

"That right over there is the town square," said Jimmy.

Lydia looked out the window. He was gesturing to four buildings arranged in a pentagonal formation. Two of them appeared to be shops. One of them appeared to be a large mill. The fourth and largest one was the fanciest. Unlike the others, it was painted on the outside, a simple clean white, and had a large bell on the outside.

"Is that a church or a school?" asked Lydia.

"Depends on the day of the week."

Jimmy slowed down long enough to let a man on horseback trot past him. The man rode right up to one of the shops, tied his horse to a hitching post, and went in.

"Welcome to the country, Princess."

The houses that Jimmy and Lydia drove past were unlike anything that Lydia had ever seen in person. But she appreciated the charm that they had to them. She considered telling Jimmy that they looked like something out of _Little House on the Prairie_ but decided against it for fear that the remark would come across as patronizing.

The house that Jimmy and Lydia eventually arrived at was a simple clapboard home surrounded by fences on all sides. Jimmy asked Lydia to get out of the car and open the gate so that he could drive in and park. As Lydia closed the gate behind his car, she watched the front door to the house open up. Two preteen boys tumbled out, one only slightly taller and lankier than the other. Both of them had floppy mops of pitch-dark hair and freckles. The only way in which they resembled Jimmy was in the clothing they wore. Leather fur-lined jackets, jeans, and brown cowboy boots.

"Hey, Jimmy!" The taller boy jumped up. "Can we drive your car? Can we?"

"Slow down, Noah," said the younger boy. "He just got here."

"I don't care. Jimmy _has_ to let me drive his car this year. Papa said he was going to! He promised! And it's almost _Christmas_! You don't say no to kids on Christmas!"

"Noah!" scolded the younger boy.

Jimmy sighed and slammed the truck door behind him, carefully balancing Bob's squirmy body against his shoulder. "Tomorrow morning, I'll let you drive it down the road and back. How's that?"

Noah took a moment to consider it. "Okay. But you're not to ride shotgun. Papa says I'm becoming a man so I'm allowed to make my own decisions."

Jimmy sighed. "We'll talk about it more later. Are Ma and Papa home?"

"They are," said the younger boy. "Ma just pulled a cherry pie out of the oven."

"Sounds delicious," said Jimmy.

"If you eat any of that pie before me, I won't like you anymore," said the older boy. "And then I'll have no reason to keep being nice to you over Christmas."

"Ignore him," said the younger boy. "Ma's gonna make him keep treating you nice no matter what happens and he knows it."

Jimmy smiled at the younger boy but didn't say anything.

"Come on inside, Lydia."

The older boy's eyes widened as he looked at Lydia.

"Wow, Jimmy. Is that your girl?"

"That's enough!" Jimmy finally snapped at Noah. Lydia followed Jimmy inside.

Inside, the home resembled the house that Lydia had grown up in much more closely than she would have thought. A large oriental rug was spread out on the wooden floor underneath the coffee table, and a television and antenna sat atop a nice TV stand. One wall was mostly taken up by a huge stone fireplace, lit and crackling. One of the other walls was covered in family portraits, some involving animals and stereotypical outdoor country activities, some not. Lydia noticed that Jimmy wasn't in very many of the photos. There was one of him as a small child by himself, sitting next to a blue china vase full of flowers. Another photo was of Jimmy at what appeared to be a county fair, again by himself, holding the leash of a sizable pig in one hand, a blue ribbon in the other. There was also one group shot that Jimmy was included in, a posed family portrait in front of the house in which he was a young teenager and the two boys Lydia had just met were toddlers.

"Jimmy, my boy!"

Lydia watched as Jimmy greeted a man with the same brown curly hair as him with a handshake, a hug, and a pat.

"How are you, son? How's big city life working out for you?"

Before Jimmy had a chance to answer, an older woman entered the room.

"Jimmy! What a nice surprise!" She pulled him into a quick hug. "You're just in time for cherry pie!"

"Ma, Papa," said Jimmy. "This is Lydia."

Both parents looked startled to see Lydia, but Papa smiled warmly and motioned for her to come over.

"Jimmy's brought home a girl," said Papa. "How nice. Isn't it, Ida?"

"Oh," said Lydia quickly. "I'm not…"

"Come on, Papa. Do you really think that this one would settle for me?"

Lydia tried to keep the unexpected sting of his words off her face as he tossed her a playful glance over his shoulder. She widened her smile a bit for the benefit of Jimmy's parents.

"We're just friends," Lydia clarified. "He's giving me a ride to my aunt's house."

"I understand," said Ma. "Why don't the two of you make yourselves comfortable in the living room while I go cut the pie?"

"Would you like some help in the kitchen, Ida?" asked Papa.

"No, thank you, Randolph."

Ma disappeared from view, her footsteps as dainty and eager as a newborn goat's.

Papa joined Jimmy and Lydia in the living room. While the three humans waited for pie and Bob curled up in front of the fireplace, Papa updated Jimmy on the whereabouts of everyone in the family, from Ma's strawberry jam business to a horse with an injured tendon. Lydia immediately noticed that Papa laughed the same way Jimmy did (and that he smirked almost the same way Jimmy did-liberally and with a slow blink, but without nearly the amount of sass). Lydia liked Papa. He reminded her very much of her own father. They both had a warm, hearty inflection to their voice that grew stronger when they were talking to their children.

Soon, Ma finally returned to the living room bearing individual plates of cherry pie. She forced a quick, bright smile when Lydia and Jimmy each thanked her for the pie. She stayed with them for a few minutes and nodded and smiled at whatever Papa and Jimmy said. Once she'd polished off the sliver of pie she'd cut for herself, she announced that she was going outside to check on her boys.

"Are you sure, Ida?" asked Papa.

"They've already been outside alone for twenty minutes. Lord only knows how many pieces your tractor is lying in as we speak."

Papa laughed. Once Ma had slipped out the door, he turned to Lydia.

"When Jimmy was twelve years old, he and his friends tried to take apart my tractor. Everything outside of the engine came off. The top-link arm, the pick-up hitch, the wheels, everything."

Lydia glanced over at Jimmy and laughed as he sheepishly looked away.

"Well, in our defense, the plan was to put it back together again before you got home from work."

"Yeah, well, the best laid plans of mice and men, am I right?" Pa smiled. "It gets worse," he said to Lydia. "A year later, he took apart Ida's thirty dollar mixer."

"Would you stop?" asked Jimmy.

Lydia sat up straighter as she nibbled one of her last bites of pie. "Why? These stories are amazing." Jimmy made a face at her.

"That time he didn't even think to tell us what he'd done after he done it," said Papa. "We just came downstairs one morning and found a pile of gears and springs in the sink along with half my toolbox."

Lydia covered her mouth with her hand as she burst out laughing. The redness in Jimmy's face crept all the way up to his ears. That caused Lydia's laughing to subside. The selfish part of her wanted to embarrass him some more just to see his adorable nervous little pout. Once she realized how bogus that sounded even in her head, she resolved to quietly finish her pie.

"How's big city life treating you, son?"

"It's going really well," said Jimmy, although he appeared reserved. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm glad," said Papa. "But just remember, there's places to sing out here in the country, too."

Jimmy smiled stiffly. "Yeah, Papa. I know."

Moments later, Jimmy got to his feet.

"Well, I'd better get Lydia to her aunt's house."

"Of course," said Papa. "Will you be back in time for dinner? Ida's making meatloaf."

"I should be, yes," said Jimmy. "See you tonight, Papa."

"Take care. Nice meeting you, Miss Lydia."

"Nice to meet you as well."

Lydia smiled when Papa shook her hand firmly, and she tried to ignore the pang that she felt when she remembered how worried Daddy must be by now.

On their way back to the truck, Lydia noticed Ma sitting by herself atop a milking stool, idly looking out at her two boys riding double on an old horse. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should say goodbye to Ma and thank her again for the pie. But when Jimmy completely ignored the older woman, Lydia followed suit.

"You ready for this?" asked Jimmy as he and Lydia got into the truck.

"Ready as I'll ever be."


	8. Chapter 7: Picture Of Us On My Mind

**A/N: Trigger warning for self-harm and ableism**

"Do you think he's gonna like me?" Lydia suddenly asked.

"Of course he will. What's not to like about you?"

"According to two-days-ago-Jimmy-James, everything," said Lydia.

"Two days ago Jimmy James didn't know that he was dealing with the future president of the United States."

Lydia smiled as she and Jimmy drove along. She tried to let the music distract her from the knot that was forming in her chest that clenched and caused her innards to twist as they drove by a sign that said they were now entering Tree Hill.

She almost wished that they could go back to the mess she had to deal with back home instead of doing this. Which was pathetic, considering how far she'd already come. But now it was real.

Tree Hill appeared to be a small and friendly town, but still modern, with not a horse or barnyard in sight. They drove away from the small storybook shops and businesses that made up the center of town and entered an endless, captivating maze of pastel-painted homes and manicured lawns and porch swings and clean sidewalks. Children walked or rode their bikes home from school. Housewives hung holly on their porches while small babies in warm sweaters toddled after them. It was a good middle ground between Nashville and Westover. Not too little, and not too much.

"What if you were right, Jimmy?" asked Lydia quietly, the knot in her stomach tightening with every bend in the road.

"About what?"

"What if my brother really is retarded?"

"Are you worried that he'll try to hurt you or something?" asked Jimmy.

"I don't know." Lydia was quiet for a few minutes. "I guess I'm just afraid that I'm not going to know what to do with him."

"You could try talking to him like you would anybody else," Jimmy suggested gently.

"But what if he doesn't talk? What if he just babbles or, I don't know, throws things at me or something?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to communicate with him in a way that makes sense to him. If he doesn't talk, play with him. Just do whatever he's doing."

Lydia considered this for a moment. It didn't seem as intimidating when Jimmy put it like that. But still. She'd never interacted with a retarded person before in her life.

"Look on the bright side," said Jimmy. "There's no way that he can be worse than my brothers."

"Yeah, well at least you didn't have to wait nearly eighteen years to talk to them for the first time."

"They were one and three when I met them, though." Lydia glanced at Jimmy in surprise. "Ma's not really my mother, she's my stepmom. Already been married and widowed when she started seeing Papa."

Lydia felt like she should have realized that before. "Thank you," she suddenly said. "For everything you've done today."

"You're welcome," said Jimmy. "But you still owe me a good punch to the face."

It took Lydia a moment to remember that he was referring to what had happened with the thugs at the first gas station they'd stopped at. God, had that really happened just earlier that _day?_

"Want me to go in with you?"

Lydia tried not to let the relief show on her face at the offer. "Do you mind?"

Jimmy shook his head.

Before Lydia had any more time to think, they arrived at the address that she had been looking for. Jimmy quietly flanked her on her left side as she went up the porch steps of a small tan clapboard house with a bright gold mailbox beside a glass door. Lydia did not allow herself time to worry any more as she hit the door with three sharp taps. She and Jimmy saw a tall brunette woman in a dress and apron come in from the adjacent room. The woman seemed friendly and appeared to be in her early thirties. Much too young to be Daddy's aunt.

"Hi," said the woman as she opened her front door. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," said Lydia. "I'm looking for Lydia Weaver. Is she here?"

The tall brunette woman's face turned pale. For a moment, she said nothing.

"Is she a relative of yours, honey?"

"Yes, she's my great-aunt," said Lydia. "Why?"

"I'm so sorry, dear. Miss Weaver passed away nearly ten years ago."

Lydia's face fell. Jimmy inched closer to her.

"Did you know her?" Jimmy asked softly.

"We did, yes. My husband and I knew her from church. We used to have her and the boy over for brunch every other Sunday."

Lydia gulped. "Could you tell us about the boy?"

"Little Frankie? Such a sweet thing. Couldn't learn basic sums or the alphabet to save his life, bless his heart. But he's a good soul. Handed out kisses and compliments like they were candy on Halloween and hugged strangers when they cried."

"Where is he?" asked Lydia.

The woman shook her head sadly.

"I wish I knew that myself, dear. When Miss Weaver began to take ill, she spoke to my husband and myself about having us look after the child. But before we had a chance to discuss the matter any further, she passed away in her sleep. Two days later, authorities came to our home and took the boy. Said his father had arranged for him to be placed in an institution. We tried for months to get into contact with Frankie's family, but it was no use."

"Frankie is my brother," Lydia finally confessed. "But I don't know where he is, either. There's got to be some way that I could find him."

The woman smiled sympathetically. "If I were you, I'd try calling the state. They wouldn't tell us a thing, but perhaps being a blood relative you'll have better luck. Especially if you're of age."

"We'll try that," said Lydia. "Thank you for everything, Mrs..."

The woman smiled. "Durham. Camilla Durham. And you're welcome. Best of luck to you, dear."

Once Jimmy and Lydia had gotten back into the car, Jimmy said, "I think I know where to find him."

"Where?"

"There's a state mental health facility in Charlotte," said Jimmy. "It's the biggest one in North Carolina, so if your brother is still here, that's where he's most likely to be."

"Of course." Lydia was quiet for a moment. "How far is that?"

"About two hours away from here."

"Oh," said Lydia. "You should drop me off at a bus stop."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to keep you from your family any longer."

"You really think I mind being kept from my family?"

"You drove eight hours to be with them already!"

"Because it's Christmas," said Jimmy. "And that's what you do on holidays. You spend time with your family. No matter how broken or fake it is."

Lydia's first instinct was to defend herself. But when she looked at Jimmy, she saw a level of pain in his blue eyes that she wouldn't have thought possible.

"You, um…" Lydia fumbled. "You want to talk about it?"

At a stop sign, Jimmy silently took his hands off the wheel long enough to open up his wallet and extract a small sepia-toned photograph. He handed it to Lydia.

"That was my real Mama."

Lydia looked at the photograph in her hand of a beautiful wavy-haired blonde in a rocking chair. This woman's light eyes crinkled at the corners just like Jimmy's did. On the lap of her modest floral dress sat a calico kitten, calm and stationary under the woman's soft, imposing grip. At the bottom of the photo, the words, "Vivian Quinn James-1954" were written.

"She's beautiful," said Lydia.

"She was," said Jimmy. "She was also mentally ill." Lydia looked over at him. "There were a lot of things that she had a hard time with. I never knew her to be comfortable with anyone other than myself and Papa. And there were some days when even we were too much for her, and she would go out to the barn with Bob and sing to him. Just sing to him for hours. Living was hard for her. But damned if she didn't try her hardest to be the kindest, most loving mother in the world."

Lydia was quiet for a moment. "What happened to her?"

Jimmy sighed. "We had a bad season and lost all of our crops. Papa, who'd spent most of his time with us on the farm plowing the fields up until then, had to take a gig in the city in order to keep up with mortgage payments. Mama took it real hard. She began having anger spells. She yelled at him a lot. She yelled at me, too, whenever I did something wrong. We tried to be patient with her, but it was difficult."

"And you were just a kid," said Lydia softly.

Jimmy nodded. "Yep. Eventually, she started having self-loathing spells. She would say out loud to herself that she didn't deserve to have ever been born because she wasn't a good person and was going to bring her family down. She would say that she should have set herself on fire before she'd met Papa so that he would have had a chance to go out and find a better wife, and I would have been born to a mother who didn't destroy everything she touched." Then Jimmy clarified, "Those were her words. They were never mine."

Lydia was quiet. She'd read books and watched movies about crazy people before. But most of them involved those people committing crimes or making things difficult for others. She'd never thought to consider that maybe that wasn't how crazy people worked in real life, or how difficult their lives must be.

"Then one day, Papa took me outside to give me a riding lesson. We were both gone for about half an hour before I insisted on going back in to check on her." Jimmy took a deep breath, and his voice shook. "I found her out cold on the kitchen floor with cuts up and down her arms."

Lydia reached over and put one of her hands on Jimmy's arm. He took another deep breath before continuing.

"Thankfully, they weren't very deep. When she came to, she insisted that she hadn't been trying to kill herself. Just punish herself. But after that, Papa made the decision to leave me with my grandparents for a few weeks and take Mama to see a specialist in Charlotte. The doctor recommended shock therapy. But something went wrong during the procedure, and she…she didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry," said Lydia softly.

"I've never told anyone about her before," said Jimmy. "And the only reason why I'm telling you now is because I want you to realize that I know what it's like to be connected to someone who's mind works in a way that doesn't always make sense."

"Do you miss her at Christmas?" Lydia asked. She immediately hated herself for asking a question with such an obvious answer.

"It was her favorite holiday," said Jimmy. "She would spend all month trimming the tree, and all of the trees out in our yard, with holly and tinsel and candy canes. Most years, she would make dinner for us. Turkey with all the trimmings and ginger cake for dessert. She'd stay up late telling me stories about Jesus and the first Christmas and Santa Claus and his reindeer."

"She sounds wonderful," said Lydia.

"She really was," Jimmy shifted in his seat and began back up the on-ramp for the highway. "And I mean, I love my papa, and the farm I grew up on. And Ma and the boys are okay. But it always feels so wrong to celebrate holidays with them and not with Mama, you know? Three weeks after she died, Papa stripped the house bare of her. He gave away her clothes, and her hairbrush, and most of her favorite things. The photograph I just showed you is the only thing I've been able to keep safe all this time."

"How long has it been?" Lydia asked.

Jimmy wiped his face with the back of his hand. Whether he was wiping away dirt or a tear, Lydia wasn't sure.

"Twelve years. That's three more years than I had with her."

Lydia instinctively reached over and put a comforting hand on Jimmy's arm. He slid his arm so that he was grasping the palm of her hand in his. Inconveniently enough, that made Lydia's heart beat faster. Fortunately, after a minute, Jimmy let go and put both of his hands back on the wheel.

"You're three years older than me," Lydia finally realized out loud.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Just eighteen."

Jimmy looked at her and chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that eighteen is how old I was when I dated Pamela."

Lydia raised one eyebrow. Jimmy blushed and looked away. The look of embarrassment on his face made Lydia's heart flutter again.

"How many girls have you dated since then?" asked Lydia.

"Well," Jimmy cleared his throat. "Two weeks after Pamela and I broke up, I finally decided that I'd had enough of life in Westover. I packed my things, said goodbye, and hightailed it to Nashville. I planned to make a living out there as a country western star, but as you can see, I haven't quite gotten there yet."

Jimmy's monologue stopped there.

"That's all wonderful," said Lydia. "But that has nothing to do with how many girls you dated after Pamela."

Jimmy's look of embarrassment hid just under the surface of the stony expression he was currently maintaining as he kept his eyes on the road and the impending sunset before them.

"Oh, come on!" said Lydia. "I told you all about my twelve exes. There's no way that your number is higher than mine."

Jimmy sighed.

"Just tell me. I won't laugh at you. Too much."

"I, um…" Jimmy finally began. "I haven't dated anyone in Nashville."

Lydia's eyes widened. _"What?_ You…you haven't been out on a single date since you got to Nashville?"

Jimmy's gaze shifted, and his look of embarrassment returned.

"Wow!" said Lydia. "You haven't been out on a date in three years? How? How does a man like you stay single for that long?"

Before Lydia had a chance to process the words that hat just flown out of her mouth, Jimmy's gaze quickly hardened into a smirk.

"Tell that to two-days-ago Lydia Brigard," he finally said.

Now it was Lydia's turn to look away in embarrassment.

"Two days ago Lydia Brigard didn't know that she was dealing with a future country western star."

Jimmy smiled a bit.

"I'm sorry," Lydia finally said. "About the way that I looked at you before, when you talked to me at the club, and when you walked in the door at the party. It wasn't okay."

"It's my fault too," Jimmy admitted. "I shouldn't have assumed that just because you're a city girl that you were going to be like Pamela. Guess it took nine hours and counting in a car with you to realize that not all uptown girls are alike."

"Guess not all dime store cowboys are alike, either."

It was shortly before sundown when Jimmy and Lydia finally arrived outside the county mental hospital and found a place to park the car. The building dwarfed them, as did its eerie silence.

Jimmy instinctively slipped his arm around Lydia's shoulders as they walked into the building. They couldn't feel each other through the thick sleeves of their jackets, but his presence was a comfort nonetheless.

"Have you ever been here before?" Lydia finally asked when she realized that Jimmy hadn't stopped to look at a map or ask for directions even one time.

"I've never gone inside. But I have driven over here a few times. Just to wonder."

Lydia tightened her grip on Jimmy's arm. That could only mean that this was the very hospital where his Mama had died.

"This is gonna be good," Jimmy finally said. "You're gonna get to see your brother again. He's going to spend Christmas knowing that he's got a family that loves him and cares about him."

The whole drive up here, Lydia had thought about her parents while Jimmy had offered his silent support. At one point, he had even offered her control of the radio, but she had chosen to leave it on country. She had to admit that there was something strangely calming about the constant stream of sad melodies and melancholy voices. It seemed that the only thing that country singers loved singing about more than God and church was loss. Death. Breakups. Betrayal.

Lydia still wasn't ready to accept it as reality. But so far, all signs had pointed to the assumption that her father had sent her little brother away because he was handicapped. If it was true what Camilla had said about Frankie, that he was gentle and kind and harmless, then there was no way that Daddy's reasoning behind it could have had to do with protecting Lydia, or Mom, or even Frankie from himself. The only explanation left was that he had done it because he was ashamed.

When Jimmy and Lydia entered the building through heavy glass doors, a sterile, white hallway funneled down into a reception area. A lone orderly sat at a metal desk surrounded by filing cabinets. His feet were propped up on his desk as he flipped through a special edition of Playboy Magazine. He almost fell out of his chair when he noticed that Jimmy and Lydia were there.

"Can…can I help you?"

"Yes, hi," said Lydia. "My name is Lydia Brigard, and I'm here to look for my brother, Frankie."

"Is this a family emergency?" asked the orderly.

"No, nothing like that. I'm just here to visit him."

"So late in the day? Why?"

"She just wanted to talk to him, sir," Jimmy cut in. The orderly looked at Jimmy suspiciously. "They haven't seen one another in years, and she came all the way from Nashville just to wish him a Merry Christmas. Please, sir. Would you let her in?"

The secretary sighed. "Sure."

Lydia and Jimmy watched as the man opened up a filing cabinet and extracted a small box of cards. He flipped through card after card after card and finally came upon what he was looking for.

"Frank Brigard is staying on the men's floor. Third floor. Go down the blue hall, go up two flights of stairs, take a right, look for the minimum security ward."

"Thanks," Jimmy finally said. "Let's go."

Jimmy and Lydia made their way down a chalky blue hallway and up a flight of stairs. When they reached the second floor, they noticed four women leading a gaggle of primary-school-aged children around the corner right by them. Lydia stopped. Each child wore an identical white shirt and pair of striped pants and a nametag. One young girl was emitting a high-pitched hum and lightly resisting the pull of her caretaker's firm hand. Two other children were doing the same and giggling. Most of the others walked along silently, their expressions ranging from blissfully amused to withdrawn and forlorn.

One of the children's caretakers looked over at Lydia.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Lydia shook her head. Then she wordlessly turned around and went up the next flight of stairs separating her from Frankie.

When they reached the top of the staircase, they were instantly hit with a bizarre, unpleasant scent.

"It smells like a hospital and a cafeteria had a baby," said Lydia.

Jimmy snorted, then nodded in agreement.

They scanned the two hallways before them. One was painted dark, and one was painted white.

It _looked_ like a hospital and a prison had had a baby.

Lydia and Jimmy wordlessly began walking down the white hallway, in the direction of a sign that read, "Minimum Security Ward". At the end of that hallway, they found a large, heavy door. They pulled on the handle of the door and found it was shut. They knocked. It was about five minutes before someone answered the door.

"Can I help you?" asked a nurse in a long, grey sweat-stained uniform.

All Lydia could manage was, "Where's Frankie Brigard?"

"Oh," the surprise was even more evident on her face than it was on the orderly's downstairs. "You're visiting him?" Lydia nodded. "Come on in."

The nurse led Lydia and Jimmy down yet another white hallway. On their right, the hall was lined with bedrooms, some occupied, some not. On their left, there was an empty dining hall, and then a crowded room with a single metal bookshelf in one corner.

"Remember, everyone!" the nurse called. "The library closes in just one hour!"

"Yes, ma'am!" called back a chorus of voices. A few men just grunted.

The room next door to the library was even more crowded. It was lined with couches and had a television in the center where a Disney movie was currently playing. A few of the room's occupants were muttering to themselves or rocking back and forth, but most of them were absolutely mesmerized. Though whether they were mesmerized by the movie or by whatever was going on in their own heads, it was unclear.

The next room Lydia, Jimmy, and the nurse passed was the one with the most nurses inside it. It was labeled "therapy/play room" but right now everyone inside appeared to just be playing. Several tarnished games of Candyland were set out on the floor. One guy who was crying and mumbling that Lord Licorice was going to kill him was being comforted by a nurse. One guy was being reprimanded for throwing a stress ball at another guy. Two guys sat in a corner rolling a ball back and forth to one another.

"Wait here," said the nurse to Jimmy and Lydia. She walked into the play room and went all the way to the farthest corner. Lydia's breath caught in her throat as she watched the nurse. The nurse put her hand on a shoulder of a man who was sitting in a corner meticulously smoothing out a multicolored roll of Play Dough. Upon hearing what the nurse said to him, the man stood up. He followed the nurse over to Jimmy and Lydia. He looked down at the floor, but Lydia could see that he had brilliant chestnut eyes with sparkles of gold. Just like Daddy. He had Mom's clumpy curls on his head. He walked slowly, meticulously, as he moved his way around his fellow inmates.

The nurse and Frank exited the room. Lydia realized that Frank was standing just three feet in front of her. She felt for Jimmy's arm and realized she'd taken a step back.

"Hi," said Frank.

Lydia's heart began beating faster.

"Hi," she finally managed.

Neither Frank or Lydia spoke for the next few seconds.

"You…have…hair," Frank finally managed. His voice was shockingly deep for the playful lilt it had to it.

"I do?" Lydia answered stupidly.

"You have pretty brown hair," said Frank. Lydia smiled. "Like Lyddie."

Lydia's mouth fell open slowly. He knew who she was.

"Lyddie's my sister," Frank explained. "But I can't see her anymore."

Lydia looked to the nurse, who still stood beside Frankie. Then she looked back at her brother.

"Frankie," Lydia finally said. "I _am_ Lyddie."

Lydia's heart skipped a beat when Frankie shook his head.

"No, you…you can't be. Lyddie's just little."

He gestured to show Lydia how tall he thought she was supposed to be. Just up to his knee.

"I was little," Lydia explained. "Once. But I'm all grown up now, Frankie. Like you."

Frankie's glistening chestnut eyes traced the foot of Lydia's shoe all the way up to her head. Then he just stood there for a minute, starring at her.

"I got taller. Like you."

"Lyddie?"

Lydia's face broke into a smile. "Yeah. It's me."

Frankie hesitated. Then he glanced from Lydia's face, to the ground, back to her face. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand. Lydia squealed as Frankie began walking off down the hall with her hand firmly in his. He looked back to make sure she was still there, smiled at her, and then began running. Lydia laughed. Partly from the rush, partly from relief. Her brother liked her.

After a minute, Frankie abruptly stopped in his tracks. Lydia did her best to stop with him. When she bumped into him and excused herself, he rubbed her shoulder to make sure she was okay.

"Come on in," Frankie said. He gestured to the open door of a small room with two twin beds. Then he pulled Lydia inside after him.

The room was half the size of Lydia's bedroom back in Nashville, despite the double occupancy. The walls were a plain, dirty grey all around but for several drawings above Frankie's bed. Most of them were of flowers, but some were of objects or animals.

"Did you draw those?" asked Lydia.

"Yep," said Frankie, plunking himself down on the bed. "That's the mean flower from Alice in Wonderland," Frankie pointed to a bright blue flower, "And that's the flower that Alice falls down on at the beginning," he pointed to a large daisy, "And that's the flower from over by the caterpillar."

Lydia moved closer to admire the drawings.

"I'm also gonna draw Alice soon, because she is a weed."

Lydia giggled. Frank opened the drawer of his bureau. Atop the bureau sat several folded pairs of identical gray pants and three folded white shirts.

"Look at this," said Frankie. He put a strange-looking stuffed teddy bear that was missing one eye on Lydia's lap. "This is Mr. Fur. He's my uncle." Lydia laughed. "And this is my flower collection."

Frankie pulled out a tin, held it over Lydia's lap, and opened the lid. Out fell dozens upon dozens of magazine clippings of pictures of flowers. Cute, cartoony, painted, and real. Upon realizing that two of the flower clippings had landed on the floor at Lydia's feet, Frankie scrambled to pick them up and put them back in the tin. Lydia helped him put them all away.

"I had a dog collection, too," said Frankie. "But my roommate ate it."

Lydia wasn't sure how she was supposed to react to that, so she just made a face. Frankie was amused.

"Look what else I have," said Frankie.

He reached into the bottom of his drawer and pulled out a small paper sack normally used for bagging lunches and the like. He opened the sack and withdrew several photographs. He dropped one of them on Lydia's lap. It was of Frank by himself as a school-aged child, laughing on a park bench with whipped cream on his nose.

"That was from Mrs. Durham's Fourth of July party. She let me have dessert first. That is the best way to have dessert, always."

Frank placed another photo on top of that photo. It was of a middle-aged woman holding Frank's hand while standing on the porch of the house she had been to. Frank was just a little boy in that picture, with such a bright smile.

"Auntie," Frank muttered. "Auntie is…she's all broken now."

He shoved that photo back in the bag.

"Mrs. Durham said that Auntie lives with God and the angels now, and Nurse Carter says she's a star in the sky. But I…I'm smart, so I know that she's really just in a box in the ground."

"Frankie, I'm sorry," said Lydia. She looked into her brother's troubled gaze and felt her heart sink as she realized that the woman who had functionally been his mother for five years had been gone almost as long as Jimmy's mother had.

"Look." Frankie put another picture on Lydia's lap. It was of her parents, young and content with each other's presence in a way that existed only in photographs now.

"That's Mommy and Daddy," Frankie explained. "I think they live in a house."

"You're right," said Lydia. "They live in a big city called Nashville."

Frankie ignored what Lydia had said and dropped another photo in her lap. This one was of two little kids, a boy and a girl, sitting on a picnic blanket. A breeze blew the little girl's long brown hair into her face as she kept a protective arm around the little boy's shoulders. He was hugging her and smiling up at the camera contentedly.

"That's us." Lydia realized out loud.

"Baby Lyddie loved the playground. She used to hold my hand and bring me up the stairs and down the slide."

Lydia smiled. A tear she hadn't seen coming rolled down her cheek.

This was a version of herself that she had no recollection of whatsoever. And it was probably the best, least messed-up person that she'd ever been.

"Don't cry, Lyddie."

Lydia forced a smile. Frankie hesitated, then reached out one hand and wiped her tear off of her cheek. Then he smiled, satisfied that he'd gotten rid of her pain.

Just then, Nurse Carter came to the door to tell them that it was time for Lydia to leave and Frankie to go to bed.

"Lyddie should stay here," said Frankie.

"She can't do that," Nurse Carter replied patiently. "She has to go home and go to sleep, just like you. And Frankie? Remember how we talked about how some things go _in_ our nightstand and some things go _on top of_ our nightstand?"

Frankie looked away.

"Yep," he replied dryly.

"Where did I say your clothes are supposed to go?"

Frankie folded his arms across his chest. "The drawer is for keeping things safe. I want my pictures and my collections to stay safe."

"Your pictures and your collections will be fine up here," said Nurse Carter, moving some pairs of pants aside and patting the top of the night stand.

"Stop!" said Frankie. "I don't… _care_ …about my clothes staying safe. They're not important."

Nurse Carter sighed. "Why don't you tell Lyddie that you're glad she stopped by? We can deal with this after you put your pajamas on."

Frank made a face at Nurse Carter. Then he turned back to Lydia.

"I want you…to stay here."

"I'll come back and visit," Lydia promised. Then she quickly pulled her brother into a hug. He leaned into her and she felt his hot breath against her neck. It felt more familiar and right to her than anything else had in years.

"You ready, Lydia?"

Lydia looked up with a start. Jimmy was standing in the doorway waiting for her. She'd completely forgotten about him.

"Goodnight, Frankie."

"Goodnight, Lyddie."

Frankie kissed Lydia on the forehead before letting go and taking the folded pair of pajamas that Nurse Carter was holding for him. Nurse Carter and Lydia exchanged a nod of acknowledgement before Lydia and Frank walked away, down the hall, and out the first heavy door with an exit sign above it and a staircase on the other side.

"Were you watching us that whole time?" asked Lydia.

"Nah," said Jimmy. "I took a walk around the floor. Played a game of Go Fish with a nice elderly man who thought I was his brother."

Lydia exhaled slowly, releasing tears.

"Did something go wrong?" asked Jimmy.

"No. I just sort of wish I could go back in there, grab Frankie, and get both of us on the next train back to Nashville."

"Where are we?" Jimmy suddenly asked. Lydia looked around and realized they were back on the first floor, but facing a labyrinth of hallways. They must have gone back down a different staircase than the one they'd gone up.

"We need to go this way," said Lydia. She saw a sign with an arrow pointing straight forward with the words "hospice ward" and "exit" written above it.

The hallway that Lydia and Jimmy were going down now was dark and narrow. There were rooms on either side of them with clear plastic walls. Lydia tried to avoid looking at or into the rooms, but once she figured out that the patient rooms were in alphabetical order, she began looking at the names to count down from Z to A to keep track of how soon she would finally be out of there. And she ended up shooting fleeted glances at many of the patients. Most of them were bedridden, some by choice, some because they were physically strapped down to their beds by their arms and legs. One woman was screaming and pulling at her straps while yelling that the antichrist was coming to get her and she had no way to run. One man was crying out that he missed his mother and didn't want to be buried alive.

Was this the fate that awaited Frankie, Lydia wondered? Was he to spend the next half-century wandering the halls of the third floor this building, living through memories and photographs, only to be brought down here to retirement for more of the same? More bleak rooms and hallways. More of his label reading "patient" rather than "person" or "man"?

Lydia sighed with relief when the surnames she was reading abruptly jumped from O to K, with a few vacant rooms in between. As Jimmy stared straight ahead and kept one arm around Lydia, Lydia began reading each name in her head as she passed the room. Kinley. Kay. Kaszubinski. Jones. Johanssen. Jin. Jenkins. James.

James?

Lydia froze in her tracks, her eyes locked on the gold placard with the first and last name written on it that she'd seen written on the back of a photograph just earlier that day.

"What's wrong?" asked Jimmy once he realized that Lydia had stopped.

"Look." Lydia pointed to the placard. The blood drained from Jimmy's cheeks as he took Lydia's hand and inched closer to the clear door.

There, strapped down onto her bed by four leather cuffs and lying peacefully asleep, was the same woman Lydia had seen holding Bob in the picture from Jimmy's wallet.


	9. Chapter 8: Fist City

"I'm afraid that we can't let you do that, Mr. James," said the weary orderly who stood opposite Jimmy and Lydia in the reception room. "That woman is not permitted to receive visitors under any circumstances, per her husband's instructions."

" _That woman_ is my mother," said Jimmy, doing his absolute best to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm twenty-one years old. I shouldn't need anyone's permission to visit her."

"Her husband has his reasons," said the orderly. "I suggest you go speak to him before attempting to pursue this any further."

"I looked at the chart by her door," Jimmy admitted boldly. "I know she has cancer. How do I even know that I have enough time to talk to my father and come back?"

"The doctors have given her a few months."

Seeing that there was nothing that they could do to convince anyone to let Jimmy see his mother without Papa's permission, Lydia and Jimmy left. Lydia's heels tapped the pavement as she walked two quick steps ahead of Jimmy the whole way down the sidewalk.

"Unbelievable," Lydia muttered under her breath, her eyes thin with rage.

"Let's just get out of here," said Jimmy.

"I'll drive," Lydia insisted.

"Great," he said. Then after a moment's thought, he asked her, "Do you want to go walk around town or something?"

"Nope," Lydia jumped into the driver's seat of the car and opened the passenger's side. "We are going back to your father's house right this minute and telling him that he's going to let you visit your mother tomorrow morning."

"We don't need to do that right now," Jimmy insisted.

Lydia turned on the car. "Oh, yes we do."

She turned the radio on. Some country artist began serenading them with a song about losing his truck. Jimmy sat quietly beside Lydia in the passenger's seat and she stepped on it.

* * *

The tainted glow of the overhead living room light was just bright enough to reveal the expressions on the faces of the four people congregated underneath it. One of guilt, two of rage, and one unreadable, the latter belonging to Ma.

"Son, you have to understand," Papa began. "It was an extremely difficult situation, one that I pray to God every day you will never have to face. None of the options on the table were favorable, and I had to choose the one that I thought was best for everyone involved."

"How the bloody hell did you manage to convince yourself that the best option you had was to tell your son that his mother was dead?"

"You were very young," Papa reasoned. "The situation at hand was simply too much for you to deal with."

"And you think her dying and being forgotten _wasn't_?"

Papa sighed and looked away. Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, but Lydia placed her hand on his arm to stop him. She had a feeling that the older man had something important to say.

"The decisions made during that time were as much Vivian's as they were mine," Papa finally said. Jimmy blinked back a tear. "She was scared, son. You'd already come so close to watching her die by her own hand. She knew that if things got any worse, she could scar you for life. Emotionally, if not physically."

Jimmy grit his teeth. "My mother _never_ would have laid a hand on me."

Papa's eyes grew sad. "Not by choice, she wouldn't. Vivian's hold on her own mind was always fragile. And don't think for a moment that I haven't spent years wondering how things would be different if I'd never taken that job in town. But the doctors told me that her breakdown most likely would have happened within a year or two anyway."

A light clunking noise from upstairs startled everyone standing in the living area.

"Why don't you go check on the boys, dear?" said Papa to Ma. "You should go back to bed. You need your rest."

"Sure I will," said Ma. "Goodnight, Jimmy."

"Goodnight," said Jimmy. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Ida."

Papa raised his eyebrows at his oldest son as his wife walked away.

"Oh, that's how you're going to play this? Calling Ma by her first name now?"

"Well, I would have gone with Mrs. James, but that's not really who she is now, is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"The nurse I talked to about Mama said that I would need to get her _husband's_ permission before going in to visit her. Want to explain how you're married to two women at the same time?"

"I was your mother's husband once," Papa said. "That's enough in the eyes of the hospital."

Jimmy grit his teeth and stepped back closer to Lydia.

"I have visited your mother every year on her birthday since I checked her into that institution," Papa continued. "And every year, the first question she asks me is "How's my son?", and the second question she asks me is, "Does he know?" And as soon as I've answered both of those questions, she looks up at me with this blissful smile on her face the entire rest of the visit, no matter what we talk about."

"Did she specifically ask you to tell me that she was dead?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes. She wanted you to think that her suffering was over, and that it was okay for you to move on with your life."

"And you just _accepted_ that?"

"She wanted what was best for all of us."

Jimmy looked away and exhaled slowly.

"Please don't go back to that hospital," Papa begged. "If Vivian knows you've seen her there, it would kill her."

"Too late," said Jimmy. "She's in the hospice ward. She's only got a few months left to live."

Papa nodded. "Good." Jimmy shot him a detonating glare. "Soon enough, her suffering will finally _really_ be over."

For the next few moments, the tick of the grandfather clock in the corner echoed throughout the room, punctuating the silence.

"Now, why don't we all get some sleep?" Papa suggested. "There are some blankets in the corner closet, Jimmy." Papa glanced over at Lydia. "I trust that the two of you will be mindful of the thin floors and the children sleeping upstairs?"

Papa studied Jimmy's face for a reaction and found none. When Lydia nodded politely in his direction, he left.

Jimmy and Lydia sank down onto the couch. He pulled his arm from her firm, gentle grip and placed it around her shoulders, pulling her in close.

"What do you think, Princess?" Jimmy finally asked.

Lydia leaned her head onto Jimmy's chest, partly because she was so tired and partly because it was there. "There's got to be something we can do to convince your papa to change his mind."

"But if the only thing bringing her comfort right now really is the fact that I think she's dead, then I could be ruining the only good thing in her life."

Lydia moved her head and placed her chin on Jimmy's shoulder so that she was facing him.

"My mother lost her son too, you know. If your mama was half as destroyed as mine was when they made her let him go, then seeing you again is what she wants more than anything else in the world, whether she says so or not."

Jimmy sighed. "Her mind doesn't work like your mother's does, Lydia."

Lydia shook her head. "But her love surely must."

Jimmy didn't say anything for a moment.

"I'll go back with you," Lydia finally insisted. "First thing in the morning after we talk to Papa about it."

"You don't have to do that," Jimmy responded. "It wasn't part of the deal."

"What can I say?" said Lydia. "Your unnecessarily complicated self intrigues me, Jimmy James."

Jimmy turned to Lydia and spent a moment just looking at her. _Really_ looking at her, and everything she was. Her heart began to flutter softly. She wished that he could look at her this way forever.

Moments later, his lips met hers.

This kiss lasted longer than the last one had, long enough to turn into what felt like three kisses that had rolled together as one and Jimmy's hand cupping Lydia's chin in his. When they separated, it took Lydia a moment to reposition herself on the couch. Like the last kiss, this one had anchored her feet to the floor and lifted her heart above the room. But unlike last time, Jimmy took her hand in his and stayed beside her.

"We've had a long day, Jimmy," Lydia finally said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just that we should get some sleep."

Jimmy clearly didn't know what he should make of that, but he simply said, "Okay." He got some thick blankets from the hall closet and made nests for himself and Lydia on the sofas. Both of them slept in their clothes for simplicity's sake despite having alternatives readily available. A few minutes after they laid down, Lydia noticed Bob scamper into the room and jump up onto the sofa next to Jimmy. He fell asleep at his master's shoulder, purring contentedly.

* * *

Lydia and Jimmy woke early the next morning to the sound of exuberant boys tumbling into the kitchen and harassing their mother for hot cocoa and pancakes.

"Are Jimmy and his girlfriend joining us for breakfast, Ma?" asked the younger boy.

The older boy glanced over at Jimmy and Lydia, who were both sitting up on their respective sofas. Lydia was working on folding the blanket she'd used while Jimmy was aimlessly scratching Bob's upturned belly.

"Did they sin last night?" asked the older boy. That earned him a light slap on the back of his hand, much to his brother's amusement.

Ma glanced at Jimmy and Lydia over the plate of pancakes she was balancing in one hand. "Are you kids hungry?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lydia said, before Jimmy had a chance to respond. She felt him give her a mildly-annoyed look. But it wasn't like they could go all day without eating.

After rushing through breakfast and thanking Ma for the pancakes, Jimmy told Lydia he had something to show her and brought her outside to the barn. Once they got there, he wordlessly shut the door. Unsure of what he wanted her to do, Lydia stood beside Jimmy. The huge stall next to them contained a cow and her calf. They watched the large bovine lick her baby's ears and face, nurse her and nuzzle her.

"You ready to talk to Papa?" asked Lydia.

"Yeah, I am. I just thought it best to apologize to you for what happened last night before we set out to do anything else." Lydia's brow furrowed with confusion. "I shouldn't have kissed you again. That was stupid."

"What? No! It was not stupid."

Jimmy exhaled with relief. "Good. I'm glad there's no hard feelings. It was a charged moment. Nothing more."

Lydia's smile widened so much that her teeth showed. "Right. Of course."

How could she have been so stupid? To once again believe that the cowboy could actually want her?

Jimmy began moving over to the barn door. Lydia followed him, then stopped when he stopped just short of opening the latch.

"For whatever it's worth," he said. "I'm glad that we're at least friends now. Right?"

"Of course," said Lydia. "Friend."

She stayed several paces behind Jimmy as they made their way back to the house, her crestfallen gaze landing on his boot prints in the clean white snow.

Once they got inside, Jimmy and Lydia slipped off into Ma and Papa's bedroom to talk to Papa while Ma watched the boys fight over which one of them got to hang their stocking closest to the Christmas tree.

"I used to play "what if?" a lot in the days after Mama disappeared," Jimmy said. "You know, if Mama was here, she'd be making biscuits right now. If Mama was here, she'd know how to get the burrs out of Bob's tail. I even remember saying those things out loud a couple of times. And every damn time, Papa, you would remind me that she was gone forever and there was no point in dwelling on it."

The regret was palatable on Papa's face. But so was determination.

"She _was_ gone forever. At least from your life."

"For Christ sakes, Papa! We had a funeral for her! You told me that the hospital had cremated her on the spot and scattered her ashes in a garden, and then you filled a coffin with her dresses, and we had a goddamn funeral for her at the church. How much did you pay the preacher, Papa? How much did you pay Mr. Dinsmore from the bakery, or the widow Gales from the post office, or all those other mourners? How much did you pay them to attend a mock funeral for a woman who wasn't really dead?"

"Nothing!" Papa finally snapped. "They didn't know, okay, son? No one in this town but me knows that your mother was _technically_ still alive and breathing."

"What about Ida?"

"I told her three days before I proposed. It wouldn't have been fair not to."

"Why?" said Jimmy. "So that she knows what you'll be doing to her if she ever has a bit of a nervous breakdown?"

"Enough!" Papa thundered. "I have already explained to you that in everything I did, I was respecting your mother's wishes! She wanted you to have a good life, and she saw that she did not possess the ability to provide that for you. Why can't you just accept the truth?"

"Why can't you?" Lydia snapped.

Papa's gaze widened as it shifted from his son to Lydia.

"Just because someone is broken or different doesn't mean it's right to make them disappear," said Lydia. "Vivian may feel that she needs to be hidden away to make things right with the world, but you should know better."

Papa sighed and glanced over at Jimmy. "Care to control your woman, son?"

"You mean like you controlled yours, Papa?"

Papa looked away and sighed deeply.

"If you don't call the hospital and tell them I can visit Mama, you're never going to see me again."

Lydia glanced at Jimmy. The harsh ultimatum was more than she had expected.

"Don't be ridiculous, son."

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

"You think that threatening never to speak to me again is going to-"

"It's not a threat," said Jimmy. "I won't be avoiding you to punish you. I'll be avoiding you because I won't be able to stand the sight of your face."

Finally, Papa relented. He reached for his bedside phone. Jimmy insisted on staying in the room throughout the duration of the phone call in which Papa begrudgingly informed the nurse that it was okay for Vivian to visit with her son. Jimmy made sure that his father added that he could bring guests and kept the older man from tacking on a "today only" clause.

"You win, son," Papa muttered as he hung up the phone. "Go on. Go ahead and spend Christmas with your Mama. See what good it does either of you."

Then Papa moved closer to Lydia. Jimmy inched closer to her protectively, but she stood her ground.

"You're a true blood city girl, ain't you?"

"Yes, I am. Born and raised."

Papa smirked. "You can do better."

"Your son _is_ better, Mr. James."

Jimmy glanced at Lydia in surprise. Papa ignored her and cleared his throat.

"One more thing, son," he said. "Vivian…well, she doesn't know a whole lot about how this farm has changed over the years."

"She doesn't know that you replaced her."

Tired of arguing, Papa exhaled slightly before responding.

"We signed the divorce papers less than a month after the funeral at her insistence. But no, she is not aware that I got married again."

Neither Lydia nor Jimmy looked back on their way out the door and into the truck.

On the way to the hospital, their regularly scheduled country music listening was interrupted by a brief radio show in which two hosts discussed the magic of Christmas. One host went on about all the delicious food that his wife was going to prepare and the toys that Santa's elves had built to stuff his children's stockings with. Another host said that with all due respect, he hated the commercialization of Christmas. It shouldn't be about food or toys. It should be about family.

"Are you thinking about your family back in Nashville?" Jimmy asked Lydia when he noticed she seemed melancholy.

"I'm thinking about the fact that I haven't spent Christmas with my whole family in fifteen years."

"It's been a long time for me, too," said Jimmy. "One of the few times that Papa seemed sympathetic to my missing her was the tenth anniversary of the day I thought she died. He said something about how he thought she'd be proud of the man I'd become. Now I'm wondering if that's something she actually told him."

"That would make sense," Lydia reasoned. "I remember one time when I was four, I was out somewhere along with my father, and I said, "Daddy, remember that time that I ate smiley face pancakes with my brother?" And he laughed and told me that I was being silly, and that I must have been dreaming, because I'd never had smiley face pancakes before and never had a brother."

"That's what they told you, huh? That he was just a dream?"

"I also went through a phase where I had an imaginary twin," said Lydia. "But I was in Kindergarten then. And she was a girl, of course. Her name was Esmeralda."

"Maybe there was some part of you that knew something was missing," Jimmy suggested.

"I still shouldn't have believed that I dreamed an entire person."

"It's what you were told to believe."

Lydia and Jimmy grew quiet again once the music resumed.

Once they got back to the institution, Jimmy and Lydia had only to give their names before they were ushered down the hallway to the hospice ward by a flustered orderly.

"We told her that someone was coming to see her," said the small woman. "But it's likely that she'll be expecting Randolph."

Jimmy tightened his grip on Lydia's hand. Lydia wasn't sure if having warned Vivian would have made things better or worse.

Lydia could tell before she and Jimmy were even led inside that Vivian's hospice room had been significantly straightened up since the night before when they had peaked in. The light in her room was brighter than the light behind any other door in sight, and a single cheerful vase of artificial flowers sat on her bedside tray. Vivian's legs were still strapped down, but her arms and torso were free.

"There's a string beside her bed that can be used to ring a bell on the outside of the door," the orderly explained. "If anything goes wrong, please ring the bell and someone will come and assist you as quickly as possible."

The orderly then removed a key from his pocket and opened the door.

"Mrs. James! You have a visitor!"

Vivian James pulled herself up into a sitting position, a knowing smile lighting up her pale, thin face. Her smile vanished into a look of shock when she saw Jimmy.

"Before you say anything, Mama, I just want you to hear me out," said Jimmy. Vivian placed one hand on the bed rail and held on to keep from slipping, but otherwise remained motionless in her bed with her torn gaze fixated on her son's. "I know that you didn't want me to find you here, and I know that you asked Papa to help you hide yourself away from the world to protect me. And I love you for that. But I'm a grown man now. And if you're still facing the same demons that were around when I was a kid, it's my job to protect you."

Jimmy released Lydia's hand, went over to his mother, and sat down on the edge of her bed, just out of reach.

"You only have a few months left, Mama. They told me so. And I'm not going to let you suffer alone for them. Please don't fight me on this."

For a painfully long moment, Vivian's gaze flickered from her son's face to the floor. Then, slowly, she reached out her free hand and squeezed Jimmy's right hand in her left.

"I love you, Mama."

Vivian's face finally broke. Tears swam through her lovely blue eyes, and Jimmy held out his arms and pulled her fragile body into his strong chest. He spared a moment to give a nod in Lydia's direction, indicating that it was okay for her to leave them alone for a little while. She went upstairs.

Luckily, a random nurse was able to open the door separating the men's quarters from the stairwell. This time, Lydia spotted Frankie almost immediately. He was in the room with the television watching Sesame Street with some of the other guys.

"Lyddie!" Frank greeted Lydia by jumping up, scooping her under her arms, and spinning her in a circle. "You were here yesterday. You came back. Can you live here now?"

"No," said Lydia. "But we can play together for a little while."

"Okay."

Frank led Lydia down the hallway and into the room with the games and toys in it. He grabbed a box of CandyLand off one shelf. Most of the cover had been scribbled on with markers. There were only two usable game pieces left for the game and five color cards. Queen Frostine had been decapitated.

"The trick is to try to get the purple card on your first turn," Frank explained seriously. "Whoever can do that might win."

Lydia stifled a giggle. "Okay." Apparently he hadn't realized that there was no skill involved in Candyland.

"Aw, man," said Frankie. "I got the yellow one."

They took turns meticulously moving their pieces down the long path through Candyland for the next little while. After they finished up the fifth game (which Lydia won, and Frankie commented that she was finally getting good at this) Frankie asked again when Lydia was coming to move in with him at the institution.

"I can't live here, Frankie," said Lydia. "I have to live in Nashville with our parents. I go to school there."

"You are my sister," Frankie reasoned. "Families are supposed to live together. You want to live with me. You told me so."

Lydia wasn't sure when he thought she'd said that, but she smiled anyway. She did wish that she could live with him, but obviously not like this.

"And I have to live here. Because my neck got broken."

"What?"

Frankie shifted slightly. "My neck broke," he repeated again. "It got tied up in some cords."

"When did that happen?" asked Lydia.

"When you and me were being born. The cords wouldn't let me be born. They let you go but they trapped me."

"Oh," said Lydia. "That's what happened?"

"Yeah. Auntie said, and Auntie is always right." Frankie reached for the gingerbread playing pieces. "This time, you should be the green one and I should be the blue one. Okay?"

Lydia smiled. "Okay."

At the end of the next round, Frankie asked, "Is the man in the cowboy boots your friend?"

"I think so."

Frankie frowned. "You can't not know if someone is your friend."

Lydia smiled. If only things were really that simple.

"Just like you're my friend," said Frankie. "Because I still love you even though Daddy told wrong words and took me away from you."

Lydia looked up.

"What are you talking about?"

"Daddy came into our room and turned on the light and put all my clothes and my toys in a brown bag, and then…and then he told…he told that he was taking me out for ice cream. You wanted to come with us. He said no. You said bye-bye Frankie. You…hugged me goodbye."

Frank's eyes widened when he realized Lydia was crying. He wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Don't be sad, Lyddie. You're a nice girl."

Lydia let Frank pull her into a hug for a minute. Then she realized that it had been almost an hour since she'd seen Jimmy.

"I have to go," she said.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes. I don't know when yet, though."

"Okay." Frankie kissed Lydia's forehead. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."


	10. Chapter 9: Love is the Foundation

Lydia went back downstairs and found Vivian's room again. The woman was leaning back against an assortment of soft white pillows now, and Jimmy was holding her hand and singing softly to her.

 _"_ _A good old country Christmas, that's what it's gonna be  
With all the family gathered round, our pretty Christmas tree  
We'll open up our presents Christmas Eve about midnight  
We'll have a good old country Christmas, alright"_

The content smiles on Vivian and Jimmy's faces knew no strained relationship, no passage of time. They only knew love and acceptance.

"You'll have to bring your guitar with you next time," Vivian said softly.

"Of course I will," said Jimmy. "And Bob, too."

Vivian's smile widened. "Great heavens above, Bob is still around?"

"He's a bitter, grumpy old man now," said Jimmy. "But he's doing alright. He travels with me everywhere."

"Does your girlfriend like him?" asked Vivian.

"Lydia's not my girlfriend. But, yeah. They tolerate each other."

Vivian laughed, a sweet, low, musical laugh that widened her heavy eyes just enough for her to notice Lydia standing in the doorway.

"Come on in, dear," she said. Jimmy glanced up in surprise and saw Lydia. "Don't be shy."

Lydia entered the room. Jimmy politely introduced the two women, and Vivian insisted on giving the younger woman a hug and thanking her for keeping Jimmy company on the drive over. Lydia offered to go out and find them something to eat.

"Actually, we should get going," said Jimmy. "I'm sure Lydia wants to be back in Nashville tonight, and I'll need to drop her off at home before heading back to my place to pack my things."

"I see. You'll be coming back down here for Christmas?"

"I'll be coming back down here for the rest of your life," said Jimmy.

"You don't have to do that," Vivian started to say. "I…"

"I can't lose you without saying goodbye, Mama," Jimmy insisted. "Not again."

Vivian relented. "Okay."

She gave her son a long hug goodbye. After that, Jimmy and Lydia turned around to head home. Some singer they'd never heard of before reminded them that Christmas was a terrible time to have no one to turn to and nowhere to run home to.

"It could have been me."

Jimmy turned his head and glanced at Lydia when he heard her break the stunned silence they'd been maintaining since the last gas station they'd stopped at.

"What do you mean?"

"Frankie told me that the reason he's retarded is because he was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. We're twins, Jimmy. If things had gone differently, my brother would be back in Nashville playing Lacrosse with Harvey Winchester, and I'd be playing Candyland with the nurse who tells me when it's okay to use the bathroom."

"You got lucky," said Jimmy softly. "Most people do."

He held Lydia's hand for the next bit of the drive. She leaned back and watched the untouched acres of open land go by to the tune of Loretta Lynn reminding them that she was proud to be a coal miner's daughter.

It was perhaps the most country song that Lydia had ever heard. Content, tune, twang, and all.

And she didn't hate it.

 _Lydia's eager little feet swung over the side of Daddy's warm, dependable lap. Mommy was in the kitchen singing while the bread baked in the oven and she stirred the stew pot on the stove. She'd offered to help with dinner, but Daddy had taken her out of the room and told her he wanted to read to her for a little while. His gentle voice moved over the words that he'd read to his Lyddiebug time and again._

 _"'I wonder if I've been changed in the night?" Daddy read. "Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?'"_

Lydia looked over at Jimmy. His sunken eyes glazed over the sign that said "You are now entering Tennessee." He was lost in thought, as they both had been for the vast majority of the drive up here.

Soon, snowflakes dotted the Nashville skyline. Jimmy began strategically making his was around the bulk of the city's rush hour traffic.

"So, when do you think you'll be going back to North Carolina?" asked Lydia.

"Tomorrow morning, first thing."

A few minutes went by. Johnny Cash serenaded them with a song about a funeral. Lydia wiped a tear from her cheek that she hadn't seen coming. She glanced back up at Jimmy and then quickly looked away before he noticed. Then she opened up her purse and pulled out a notepad and a pencil. On it, she wrote down her full name and address. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, she added a note at the bottom and signed it with her first name and a heart.

They turned the corner onto Lydia's street. The first thing Lydia noticed upon arriving in front of her house was that both of her parents' cars were out front.

"Damnit," mumbled Lydia. "My dad's home, too."

"Do you want me to walk in with you?" Jimmy offered. "You helped me deal with my parents. It's only fair that I help you deal with yours too."

"Thanks," said Lydia. "But I think that this is something I should do alone."

"I understand."

Jimmy got out of the truck long enough to help Lydia remove her suitcase from the truck and help her get it up on the curb.

"Good luck, Princess."

"Thanks," said Lydia. "You too."

Lydia wasn't sure why she said that, because it wasn't as if she had anything in particular to wish him luck for. The worst of his holiday was already over.

Jimmy held out his hand for Lydia to shake. She reached out a shaking hand to return the gesture. After a few seconds of keeping his sweaty palm clenched her hers, Lydia took a deep breath and shoved the folded-up note she'd just written into Jimmy's jean jacket pocket. Then she moved to turn back to the house, hesitated, turned around, and pressed her lips to Jimmy James's. Lydia held on until she felt like her heart might explode from the contact, then grabbed her suitcase and ran inside, disappearing as quickly as a snowflake melting away.

The engine of Jimmy's truck sputtered just as Lydia closed the front door behind her. She could already hear her parents' raised voices. Sigh. Of course they were fighting again. After a moment, though, the accusations stopped flying. Both Mom and Daddy came out from the kitchen to find Lydia standing there with her red suitcase in one hand, her handbag on the opposite arm, and a stone-faced expression they weren't sure they'd ever seen on her before.

Mom's expression was almost as hard as Lydia's with a hint of relief. Daddy's was the exact opposite. After a few seconds of Lydia staring them both down needlessly, Daddy cleared his throat.

"Lydia, dear," he said. "Care to explain to us where you've been? Because the note that you left on your vanity stating that you 'had something to take care of' was not sufficient justification for disappearing for nearly forty-eight hours."

"Nothing much," said Lydia flippantly as she tossed her handbag from one shoulder to the other. "I just went down to North Carolina to visit my brother, and then on the way back I got some bagels at Kaufman's." Lydia didn't let the satisfaction that she felt creeping up show in her expression as her mother's jaw dropped and the color drained from her father's face. "I would have brought you some, but I didn't know that Daddy was back in town yet, and I know that Mom likes English Muffins better anyway. Did you know that they make flavored cream cheese now? It's pretty delicious."

Daddy turned to Mom.

"You told her?"

Lydia cut in before Mom had a chance to answer the question, although Mom did manage to slip in a befuddled expression.

"Oh, no, nobody told me anything about Frankie. In fact, I still wouldn't know he exists if I hadn't been looking for the phone book in your study and happened upon the tin where you keep all the letters that Mom writes to him."

 _"_ _What?"_

Lydia whipped around to face her mother. "Yeah. They were all in there, Mom. He's never gotten a single one."

Mom turned to face Daddy, shock replacing anger on her face.

"He lives in an institution, by the way," Lydia continued. "He's lived there for nearly ten years, you know, ever since Auntie died and Frankie was locked up without any consideration for the fact that there were people in the outside world who actually care about him."

Mom and Daddy were both looking up at Lydia with similar, white faces now. Mom's lip trembled. Lydia looked her Daddy in the eye.

"I guess you just assumed that because you couldn't love him the way he is meant that nobody else could either."

"Lydia…" Daddy stepped forward. "You have to understand, Frankie's not like us. And you were just a little girl. I didn't want you to grow up thinking that this was how children were supposed to be."

"Don't you _dare_ put this on me!" Lydia shouted. "I was three years old when you took away the only brother I'll ever have and told me that he was a dream and I'd made him up. I _never_ would have asked you to do that. You had a son, you decided that he wasn't good enough, and you gave him away. It's as simple as that."

Daddy let out a sigh but didn't say anything. A glare began to form on his face-although he, unlike Lydia, still seemed more agitated than angry.

"And you," Lydia turned to Mom. "What was _your_ problem?"

"I…I beg your pardon?" Mom faltered.

"Daddy gave you Frankie's address. You knew exactly where he was. And yet you never went to see for yourself."

"What was your mother supposed to do, Lydia?" Daddy interjected. "You know how long ago I had the boy moved."

That was the first time that Lydia remembered her father ever having come to her mother's defense. Mom noticed this, too, and shot her husband a look of contempt. Lydia addressed her next statement directly towards her mother anyway.

"There were so many times when you could have gone after him, Mom. Daddy's not even home half the time, you could have made up an excuse and sent me to Donna's house for a few days. Nobody would have been the wiser. All those hours you spend raising money to feed the homeless and buy toys and presents for sick children at the hospital, and yet you couldn't even do anything to help your own son? What kind of a so-called philanthropist are you?"

Unlike Daddy, Mom had nothing to say in her own defense. She just looked at the ground and hid her face, both in shame and because she thought that no one could see the tears dripping down her cheeks that way.

"Bottom line, you guys took my brother away and I'm never going to forgive either of you. Merry Christmas."

Lydia grabbed her belongings and went upstairs, leaving her parents to pick up the pieces of their broken home.


	11. Chapter 10: Out Of My Head

The shadow of Santa's sleigh passed over Lydia's family's home unnoticed that year. The Christmas tree stayed bare, and the whole family refrained from exchanging gifts despite having already bought them.

At around 6 p.m. on Christmas Day, Lydia dolled up, put on her best green velvet dress, and left for Robin's Christmas party with nothing but a clutch purse and an armful of wrapped presents. Her parents saw her leave but didn't say anything. Lydia didn't feel much like celebrating. But she did feel like getting out of the house and maintaining some sense of normalcy.

Lydia smiled through the greetings she received. Clusters of her peers swarmed about her like flies around a sugar hill, wondering why the popular girl had run away. Apparently rumors had circulated that her parents had kicked her out of the house because of the whole situation with Harvey and she'd been shipped off to go stay with relatives in the country. The second Lydia dispelled those rumors, people began asking her if she'd run away with a boy. They speculated that she'd run off with everyone from Harvey to the Star Trek obsessed sophomore boy who she'd kissed once on a dare.

It wasn't until Donna, Robin, and Janice got Lydia alone in the corner of the room with newly-unwrapped gifts in their laps, that Robin finally said.

"Honey, we need to talk."

Lydia looked around at the three concerned faces staring at her.

"And I know it's Christmas and all," said Donna. "But this doesn't feel like something that can wait."

"What is it?"

"Why did you run off with the cowboy from the country bar?" Robin finally asked.

"I wasn't…" Lydia began. "It's not what it looks like. I just needed a ride somewhere that he happened to be going."

"So, there's absolutely nothing going on between you and him?" asked Donna.

Lydia looked down at her lap, full of makeup and earrings.

"Nothing that means anything," she lied, and then instantly hated herself for it.

"I hope so," said Robin. "Because come on, Lydia. I know that Harvey broke your heart and ruined your Christmas break, but you of all people know that there's no excuse for falling for a dime store cowboy."

"Hey," said Lydia. "Jimmy may be a sarcastic jackass, but he's actually a good guy. And when he realized how badly I needed to find what I was looking for, he dropped everything to try to help me. That's more than we can say for most of the boys that we've dated in the past six months."

"But he's a _cowboy_ , Lyd," said Donna, her face scrunching with concern. "We have standards. Your words, remember?"

It was true. Lydia had said that.

And she knew now that she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Excuse me," said Lydia. "I need to get some air."

She set all of her Christmas presents from her friends on the floor next to Donna's purse. Then she got up and walked away with just her clutch.

Out in the common room, Donna's older sister was singing a slow, gentle version of Winter Wonderland that all of the couples in the room were holding each other and swaying to. Lydia sighed and began navigating her way around the dance floor. When she rounded the corner at the edge, she came face to face with none other than the cowboy she'd said goodbye to so recently.

"Hey!" said Lydia. Without even thinking about it, she leaned over and hugged Jimmy, letting her face rest on his shoulder. He held her there for a minute. He smelled like aftershave and fabric softener and was wearing a white shirt and black pants. Once Lydia stopped hugging him, he took her hand and gently pulled her out on the dance floor. They began slow dancing and holding each other close, faces just inches apart.

"What are you doing here?" Lydia asked. "What about spending Christmas with your Mama?"

"I did spend some time with her this morning," said Jimmy. "We exchanged presents, and sang songs, and tortured Bob with some catnip for a little while before Mama told me that I needed to leave because it was time for her to take her afternoon nap and it was time for me to call the pretty girl from Nashville and tell her how I really felt about her. And when I told her that we never exchanged numbers, she told me that I had no choice but to come back here."

"You spent all day driving here from North Carolina just to talk to me?" said Lydia.

"I was also kind of hoping I could kiss you again. That is, if that's something you'd be okay with."

Lydia kissed Jimmy again as he spun her around in a long, slow, circle.

"I never got to know another boy as well as I got to know you these past few days," said Lydia.

Jimmy smiled. "I'm glad I got to know you too, Princess."

Lydia looked down and let Jimmy kiss her again.

"There's just one problem," said Jimmy. "I had to leave for here right from the hospital, you see, and it wasn't like I could just leave Bob for Mama and the nurses to deal with. So he's in the truck waiting for me."

"Oh, well," said Lydia. "I guess we'll just have to take this outside."

As Lydia took Jimmy's hand and walked around the corner to where Loretta was parked, she paid no mind to the stares of the few classmates who noticed them passing by. One girl even gasped and whispered. "Oh my God, Lydia's lost it."

They found Bob perched on the driver's seat of the truck, ready to greet them. Lydia scratched him for a moment while Jimmy cleared off the bench and closed the doors behind them. Then Jimmy turned on the heater and the radio while Lydia took off her high heels and shoved them under the seats. Then he kissed her again, this time holding on longer than they ever had before, but still not long enough.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"I've been sure ever since you bought me that box of doughnuts at the gas station," said Lydia. "You?"

"I've been sure ever since the first time Bob jumped up on your lap."

Seeing that there was soon to be no room for him on the bench, Bob leapt down underneath the dashboard and curled up next to the nearest heating vent. He gave both Lydia and Jimmy a look of contempt.

 _So much for Bob outranking me,_ Lydia thought as a few plucks of a guitar string came through the radio followed by Bob Dylan's voice.

 _Well, it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe  
Even you don't know by now_

Jimmy and Lydia's lips made contact again as he reached to undo the zipper of her dress.

 _And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe  
It'll never do somehow_

Lydia's dress came down, exposing her shoulders, then the upper half of her torso. One by one, assorted garments fell down on the floor of the truck. Green dress. Emerald earrings. Plaid shirt. Undershirt. Cowboy boots. Brassiere. Jeans and belt. Underpants. Boxer shorts.

 _I'm a-thinking and a-wonderin' walking down the road  
I once loved a woman, a child I am told  
I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul  
But don't think twice, it's all right._

Country music was wonderful.

* * *

Jimmy held Lydia's hand all the way up to the door of her house this time.

"The light is still on in the living room," Lydia remarked. "That either means they're fighting or they're waiting for me."

"Hope I didn't get you into too much trouble." Jimmy nudged Lydia's shoulder.

"Don't even say that," said Lydia. "We were careful enough."

Lydia stopped on the welcome mat. She didn't want to go in. Not only because she wanted to avoid her family, but because she wasn't ready to say goodbye to Jimmy.

"I'll write to you," she finally said.

"I'll write back," Jimmy replied. "And I'll get a phone once I'm settled in an apartment in Charlotte."

"Good."

"I guess you'd better be the one to call me. It might be a little awkward if one of your parents answered."

"Of course," Lydia agreed.

They exchanged a kiss, then a hug, and then another kiss before they at last managed to tear themselves away from each other. When Lydia finally opened the door, her parents were standing right there.

"What's the matter?" asked Lydia. "Were you worried that I'd gone off to visit Frankie again? Or do I have any other missing siblings that I don't know about?"

Daddy sighed and stepped out of the way so that Lydia could come into the house. Mom shot a sideways glance at Jimmy's disappearing back and his truck before following suit.

"Am I grounded again?" asked Lydia.

"No," said Daddy. "We're just glad you're home safe."

"But we do need to have a talk with you," said Mom. "Why don't you go upstairs and get ready for bed and then join us in the living room?"

"Fine." Lydia went upstairs and disappeared. Mom took notice of the broken clasp that hung just above the zipper on her dress and Lydia's disheveled hair. She shot a glance at her husband.

"Who was that boy who just dropped her off?"

"I have no idea," said Daddy. "I've never seen him before."

Both of them heard when Lydia entered her bathroom and began whistling to the tune of _I Can't Help Falling In Love With You_ to herself as she turned on the shower.

"I don't think I like this guy," said Daddy.

"Me, neither," said Mom.

It was the first thing that Marshall and Josephine Brigard had agreed upon in eighteen years.

* * *

When Lydia came back downstairs dressed in her pajamas, Mom and Daddy were both waiting for her in the living room as promised. They gestured for her to sit down on the couch opposite them. Lydia perched herself on the edge of her seat and waited for them to speak.

"Your mother has asked me to move out of the house," Daddy finally said.

"We're still going to be married," Mom added. "And we're still going to be a family. We just won't all be together most of the time."

"We weren't a family before," Lydia responded.

Neither one of her parents acknowledged the statement.

"Are you okay with staying here with me?" Mom asked. "At least until you graduate from high school."

"Whatever," said Lydia. "Guess I could do worse."

Daddy sighed. Mom, as usual, betrayed no emotion at all.

"When do you leave?" Lydia asked.

"Tomorrow morning," said Daddy.

Lydia nodded.

"It's late," Mom said. "Let's all get some sleep."

"All right."

Daddy went into his study, presumably both to pack and to sleep, and Mom and Lydia went upstairs.

"Can we go to North Carolina to visit Frankie next weekend?" Mom suddenly asked.

Lydia glanced behind her in surprise. Why was Mom _asking_ her?

"You know where he is," Mom explained.

"Sure," said Lydia. In fact, nothing would make her happier. Right now Jimmy and Frankie were the only people who she felt like she wanted to see ever again.

"Is he well?"

Lydia shrugged. "He was safe and all. The nurses seem to care about him and look after him, but it's not the same thing as having a family."

"Did he seem happy?"

"Why wouldn't he be happy? He doesn't realize that he could be living any other way."

"With all of his brain cells intact?"

Lydia shook her head. "Outside of the institution."

Lydia turned to depart for her own bedroom, but Mom stopped her.

"Lydia, wait."

Lydia sighed and turned around. Her mother was unable to hide the tears that had formed in her eyes.

"You were right," Mom began. "I _am_ a hypocrite. But you have to understand, all the charity work I do is _because_ of what I've been through. All these years, I've been powerless to do anything for my own child. So I thought maybe I might at least be able to help someone else instead."

"That's just it," said Lydia. Her tone was somber. She was tired of arguing. "You say you had no way to help Frankie, but you've never even tried."

"Lydia, I've thought about going down to North Carolina to visit Frankie more times than you could imagine. I even thought about telling you everything and taking you with me, once you were older. But then I realized that in the end, I'd just be hurting my son even more than I already have. Right now, I'm just a wisp of a memory and a voice behind a few letters to him, if that. If he'd physically seen me and been around me, I would have become someone who loved him and kept walking away. He wouldn't have been able to understand that, Lydia. He either would have hated me or wondered what he did wrong, both of which would have hurt him more than my simply staying away. As for your father institutionalizing him after Auntie passed away, that is something that I will never forgive him for. But there's nothing that either of us would have been able to do about it. He's the father. The law recognizes that as his decision."

"That's not fair."

"I know it's not," Mom agreed. "None of it was fair." She hesitated. "And I am so sorry that I've put such a distance between you and me. When you were three years old, I learned just how terrible love can feel. And it destroyed me for ever being close to anyone again. But none of that was your fault. I'm sorry."

In spite of the mixed feelings that were swirling around in her brain that moment, Lydia stepped over to her Mom and gave her a hug. Just for a few seconds.

"And by the way," said Mom. "If you ever run away again, you're grounded until the end of the century."

Lydia smiled. "Okay."

That night, Lydia fell asleep with the thought that perhaps, in a very different way than how she'd hoped, she'd found a way to bring her family back together after all.


	12. Epilogue: You're Looking At Country

Very little about Lydia Brigard's world was the same by the time that she got back to school after Christmas break. And contrary to popular belief, she was okay with that.

At school, Lydia no longer sought out the company of the girls who she'd once considered her best friends. During her first few weeks back, she poured herself into her studies and exams. Eventually, she fell in with a group of kids from the science club. They weren't the most fashionable bunch, but they accepted her.

Daddy moved out of the house and settled in an apartment near his office very quickly. At Mom's insistence, Lydia called or wrote him once every week and had dinner with him in the city on the third Sunday of every month. The two were civil to each other, but had very little capacity to understand one another's life choices. They often did not have a lot to say to each other and would resort to politics, the weather, and everybody's health as topics of conversation.

Mom and Lydia, on the other hand, grew more comfortable with each other's presence. Mom started spending more time at home and, without really meaning to, she and her daughter began making polite conversation with one another. They talked about what Lydia was learning in school and doing for homework and what they should have for dinner that night. Lydia was still out of the house a few evenings a week, notably Fridays and Saturdays, but now Mom usually knew where she was. Lydia and her new friends usually spent their time at each other's houses, movie theaters, and ice cream parlors. Except for on very special occasions, they took care to stay away from brownies.

The only area in Lydia's life that her mother was very seldom, if ever, privy to, was her love life. Jimmy ended up taking a full-time job at a power plant, despite both Lydia and Vivian's urging that he follow his dream of becoming a singer, but he did keep his promise to buy a phone and send Lydia his number as soon as he got his own apartment. They also saw each other every other weekend. On the second Friday of every month, Lydia and Mom would take the train down to North Carolina and get a hotel room in Charlotte. Mom would spend all day Saturday holed up in Frankie's hospital room visiting him and playing games with him, while Lydia would drift out once or twice to go downstairs and visit with Jimmy and Vivian in the hospice ward. And on the fourth Friday of every month, Jimmy would get into his truck with Bob and his guitar, drive all day long, and show up at Lydia's house with a box of doughnuts. He would shake Mom's hand and tell her that he and Lydia were going to a movie theater. Then they would proceed to spend the entire rest of the evening on the bench of Jimmy's truck listening to Bob Dylan on the radio.


End file.
